


Rio-union

by melanie1982



Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: Bad Puns, Feels, Fiction, Fluff, Love, M/M, Reunion, Secret Identities, Shipping, Slash, Smut, cheesy jokes, en fuego, umm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-10-18 14:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 21,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10618479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: Follows on from the events of my fanfic 'For The Job.'fictionI don't own these charactersI make no money from this work





	1. Chapter 1

Next week would be the first time Jamie had missed a Sunday dinner since graduating, making this one all the more poignant.

Once everyone was comfortably full and the dishes were washed and placed in the rack to dry, the two Reagan brothers stole a moment in the living room.

Jamie had finally managed to get an entire ten days off work. He'd worked double shifts for almost a month solid, brown-nosed more than he cared to admit, and had scrimped and saved to afford the trip - but he was packed and ready to go. This was really happening.

Danny being Danny, he couldn't just let his only remaining baby brother take off without interrogating him first.

"So, what's wrong with the culture here? Plenty to see in the continental forty eight, Jamie."

Jamie grinned and shook his head. "Danny, I've traveled by myself before, back when I was younger and didn't know how to use a gun. I'll be fine."

Danny sighed. "You've already SEEN Europe. What's left to see? There a painting in a dark corner of the Loove you forgot to take a peek at?"

Jamie laughed. "It's 'Louvre,' uncultured brother mine. And I'm not going to France."

Danny looked confused. "Oh. The Loove is in France? I thought it sounded German."

Jamie stared. "You thought - whatever, Danny. Just, are you gonna have a drink with me or not? I get nervous flying, and I'm gonna head to bed in a few."

Danny fetched a decanter and two tumblers from the side bar. "Yeah, I'll have a drink with you. But you better come back in one piece, or so help me.."

"'Or so help me.' Mom used to say that all the time to all of us kids, but she never articulated the threat. What's it mean, Danny?"

Danny took a sip, puckering his lips at the tartness of the whiskey. "It means, kid, that I care about you, and I don't want you to get hurt. And I also don't want to have to come rescue you."

Jamie laughed again, the sound muffled against the rim of the glass. "Rescue me? What could happen?"

"Oh, I don't know. You rescue a baby from a burning building while you're working undercover to take down some mobsters, you get beat up on a regular basis, you - "

"Some of those beatings are from YOU," Jamie pointed out.

"Yes, which means I know you don't do well in hand-to-hand combat. You have a way of attracting trouble, especially trouble in a female form. Badge bunnies and damsels in distress."

Jamie sipped his drink, letting it burn. Danny's mind went down the wrong road, as happened so frequently.

"Is that what this is? You meetin' up with some girl?"

"No, Danny."

"C'mon, you can tell me. I mean, you haven't really dated since Sidney, and.. You aren't going to see her in London, right, kid?"

Jamie's laugh was bitter like the alcohol. "No. No way. We don't keep in touch."

Danny relaxed slightly. "Good. I mean, I'm sorry it had to be that way, but.."

"Just forget it. This isn't about a girl, or anything like that. I just want this trip, for me. To see what's out there."

Danny emptied his tumbler into his mouth. "To see what's out there. Well, kid, best of luck to you. When you get back, let's hope you don't bring home any contagious souvenirs or a memento which comes with a monthly wage garnish, eh?"

"Shut up, Danny. I'm smarter than that."

"Sure thing. G'night. Have a nice trip."

"I will. G'night, Danny."

Jamie was just about to head to bed, staying the night in order to be closer to the airport for his early take-off, when his father walked in.

"Oh, hey, an empty glass on your mother's antique table. Wonder who could've left THAT there?"

"Hey, Dad. Yeah, Danny had to toast my trip in his own unique way."

"My condolences. Danny means well. It's just difficult for him to find the handful of right words in amongst the sheer volume he produces."

Jamie had a nice buzz, nothing major, and was feeling better already. "What do you say about me behind MY back?," he teased.

Frank smiled, sitting down by his youngest. "Oh, nothing I wouldn't say in front of you, son. You're able to take it better than your brother is."

Frank replaced the top in the decanter. "So, you know I don't like to pry.. but are you sure this is a good idea right now? I mean, God knows you're entitled to some time off, but going halfway around the world - "

"Dad, we've been over this. You can't keep me here. I'm comin' back; you know that. I always do."

"You have, Jamie - so far, although we've had a few close calls. The day I quit worrying about my kids is the day they're throwing dirt on me to the strains of 'Danny Boy.' Even then, I'm not so sure there isn't an observation deck or a situation room up there where I can pace back and forth."

"Dad, I want this. Okay? I never do stuff like this. I always think things through; I don't do anything for myself unless it makes sense.." His face burned as he realized the lie he'd just told. The lie about the recent past was tightly woven with the lie of his impending future, and he suddenly wished the decanter's stopper wasn't in place.

Frank rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder. "I always tell you to trust your gut. If that's what you're doing, then you have my blessing."

"It is. I need this."

Frank nodded. "Don't forget your carry-on, son." As he lifted the duffel bag to place it on the sofa, Frank spotted a guide book for Rio tucked inside, but said nothing. Jamie had made his decision, and the tickets were non-refundable; there was nothing anyone could say or do. Still, it gave the old man something to ponder (read: worry about) while his son was gone.

Like a greater man than himself, at the crucial moment, Frank Reagan said nothing.

"I trust your judgment. Good night, son. And have a nice trip."

"Thanks, Dad. I will."

Jamie headed up to bed, setting a triple alarm to ensure he got a good head-start on the morning rush. As he drifted off, Jamie was tantalized by visions of warm white sands, tropical heat, and a pair of dark eyes he'd waited far too long to see.


	2. Chapter 2

Rio was hot. Jamie knew he needed to minimize his sunburn; even sunny Spain might not be enough of a cover story for him, given his Irish complexion. Slathered in lotion which smelled of coconuts, he made his way through the narrow streets, staying off the main roads. He wasn't sure what he was looking for - the odds of finding his man were slim to none - but Jamie would know it when he saw it. People didn't give up all of their old habits and preferences, even when they were in hiding to save their own lives; Noble and Bianca would have something of their past, some holdover from NYC living, that would give him a lead.

At first, Jamie considered asking around for local dealers. That thought was depressing; he sincerely hoped Noble hadn't fallen back into using - but he filed it away as a last resort.

Jamie found, to his relief, that many of the locals spoke at least some English. He couldn't ask about specific people, but he DID ask about tourist hot spots - places where the world-weary could feel like they were home, places with golden arches and familiar brand names, Western music and bland food. There were a handful of bars in this neighborhood, each boasting a different 'foreign' theme, and Jamie resolved to start there - just as soon as he got a nap.

The hotel room was small, but Jamie noted that the bed could hold two, as long as they were content to sleep on top of one another. The walls were solid, if stained, and the window provided a current of fresh air, pushed listlessly in circles by the overhead fan. The lone bead of sweat rolling down the track of his spine and sliding beneath the waistband of his shorts made him remember Noble's tongue traveling the same path, and Jamie felt his insides turn to jello. After a quick bed-check, satisfying himself that he wouldn't be sharing a mattress with any creepy-crawlies, Jamie stripped down and laid out on the sheet for a siesta. His hand strayed to the apex of his thighs as though it had a mind of its own, but Jamie stopped himself. He couldn't afford to build up the fantasy anymore than he already had; for all he knew, Noble wouldn't want to see him, or already had a boyfriend or girlfriend, or, GOD, a wife. What if he - ? It was too late to think about that now.

Jamie fished his Spanish phrase book from his duffel bag, practicing some standard 'asking for directions' and 'negotiating a price' dialogue, before moving on to the 'love and sex' section. Noble would no doubt have picked up some local lingo, and Jamie hoped to break the ice with a few choice phrases (hopefully out of Bianca's earshot). He fell asleep with the book in his hand, his thumb marking the line that loosely translated to 'I want to devour you all night long.' When he awoke, it was growing dark, and Jamie was starving. "I hope I find some delicious Italian," he joked to himself, dressing in the light-weight white t shirt and matching cargo pants which Danny had said reminded him of some eighties boy-band comeback. What was their name? New Boys? Street Kids? "New Kids," Jamie remembered. "Guess this makes me the 'gay' one, huh?"

With a final check in the mirror, armed only with an apologetic smile and a heart full of hope, Jamie Reagan went out in search of his one that got away.

He only had nine days left to make things right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cop walks into a bar..

Jamie was nobody here. He was a tourist, an everyman, a stranger; he could reinvent himself, tell tall tales, bluff his way into swanky parties or underground gambling dens - but all Jamie wanted was to tell the truth, to explain himself to the one he loved.

The first bar on his list was very much for the younger crowd; the music was too loud, and the girls were too handsy, sending Jamie back out in five minutes flat. The second was more sedate, with country western themed décor and obnoxious twangy songs playing. Noble would have to be super-drunk and desperate to put up with this; then again, he wasn't 'Noble' anymore. Maybe his new persona liked this scene? After people-watching for half an hour, Jamie gave up on that bar, too.

Jamie tried the tavern at the far end of the street. Orange traffic cones dotted around the tables, and cheap framed prints of the skylines of the US' major cities adorned the walls. The very air in there seemed denser, like city pollution; this was a good bet.

Jamie ordered a drink, something fruity but watered-down, not wanting to get drunk, then realized he hadn't eaten since his flight. Pulling out a sleeve of Oreos from his messenger bag, he began to munch on one, the crumbs plastering themselves to his lips, darkening them.

"Wow. Oreos! Those are worth their weight in GOLD here," said a voice. Jamie clutched the sleeve, crushing the cookies a little as he turned towards the source.

Time froze for a moment as their eyes met. Incomprehension gave way to shock, which gave way to simmering anger, and then something Jamie never expected:

Fear.

Noble was afraid of him, of what his presence here might mean.

"You."

Jamie swallowed hard. "Me. How you been?"

Noble seemed at war with himself. "I've.. been better. But then, I've been a lot worse. You know that, though."

"Yeah." 

Jamie looked around, scanning the room for any sign of Bianca. She had to have dyed her hair; I mean, a redhead in Rio? Sitting duck.

Noble froze as though under a spell, and looked at the man in front of him as though expecting him to vanish at any moment. "She's at home. In case you cared. In case you thought anything at all." Noble's voice was strained, edged with ice.

"Oh. I'm glad you're both okay. I mean, I heard bits and pieces from the department, mostly rumors, but I had to see for myself. I just.. I had to see.."

That you were okay. That you didn't hate me. That you still looked like a Botticelli angel. Jamie bit back words, but then he remembered. "Perdoname."

Noble looked confused. "What?"

Jamie tried again. "Perdoname. Extrane."

Noble shook his head, and Jamie felt his heart sinking. He had to try one more time.

Infusing his voice with what he hoped was an air of vulnerable passion, rather than desperation, Jamie spoke. "Quiero devorarte toda la noche." He blinked, waiting for Noble to react.

"Are you.. are you speaking Spanish?"

Jamie felt himself relax a fraction; Noble had acknowledged his efforts. "I've been practicing what to say to you if I found you. I wanted to tell you.."

Noble got closer, and Jamie's heart stopped. "You, a Harvard grad.. you came to Rio.. speaking SPANISH?"

Noble laughed. Jamie smiled, weakly, missing the joke.

"Brazil speaks PORTUGESE, man. Sorry you wasted your time. Can you get a refund on your lessons?"

Jamie felt like a world-class dick. "Portugese." Suddenly, it was funny to him, too. "So, did what I say in Spanish sound even remotely romantic to you?"

"I don't speak any Spanish. I barely speak Portugese. And no, it didn't sound romantic."

Jamie was crushed.

"But I love that you tried. And I think you said enough lovey stuff in your letter, which I still have, by the way."

A few people were casting curious glances in their direction. Few locals batted an eye at same sex pairings, but these were two Americans hooking up; that gave it a novelty factor.

"I.. I can't tell you how - "

Noble cut him off. "Start over." He extended his hand. "Paul Watts. Nice to meet you. And you are..?"

Jamie drew a blank. "I'm.. Jamie. Just call me Jamie."

They shook hands. Paul's palm was cool against his own, Paul being acclimated to the heat. "Good to meet you, Paul."

Paul tried out the name, seeing how it fit in his mouth. "Jamie. It suits you. Better than Jimmy."

Jamie swallowed hard. "Are you.. happy here? I mean, under the circumstances?"

Paul nodded. "I am. I'm alive, and I'm taking it one day at a time. Just like twelve-step. How 'bout you?"

There was no easy answer to that question. Jamie needed another drink, possibly several, before he'd even consider answering.


	4. Chapter 4

Of course, reality wasn't that simple. 

Chalk it up to jet lag, or maybe fever; his happy reunion was cut short by his awakening from the sweet dream.

Jamie spent the first night in and out of various bars, without success. Some of the locals probably had him pegged as a pickpocket; he never stayed long, though he DID pay cash for whatever he ordered, which the proprietors appreciated.

By the end of the fourth night, Jamie had exhausted all of the bars, taverns, watering holes, and other night life synonyms. Weary and a little homesick, Jamie made his way to the beach, sinking his toes into the now-cool sands and letting his head fall backward. If he'd had the strength, he would have howled at the moon.

He considered letting himself take a power nap, but knew that wasn't safe. Imagining the beating he'd get from big brother Danny, even if said beating was posthumous, Jamie only allowed himself a brief respite.

The waves sang their lullaby, and he knew he had to get up and drag himself back to the hotel. 

"Some vacation," he muttered aloud. "Almost halfway over, and I haven't done even one of the things recommended in the guidebook."

With no leads and nothing else to do, Jamie decided to spend the remainder of his trip actually seeing the sights.

After fighting so hard and risking his own life to ferret out the leaks in the NYPD, Jamie suddenly wished for an officer, a detective, a commanding officer, ANYONE, who could give him a lead on how to find Noble. Rio was speculative, and Jamie felt a fool, going so far from home on a 'maybe.' He'd never been this reckless over a woman, and that gave him food for thought. What made Noble so different?

Sleep brought no answers. Jamie had even asked around for a 'Paul Watts,' hoping a guardian angel had implanted a clue into his dream, but no such luck.


	5. Chapter 5

Jamie had deliberately avoided traveling to Rio during Carnivale, knowing it would be too insane, the city overflowing with the largest number of visitors imaginable. He'd managed to be careful, keeping his tan/burn to a minimum to avoid extra questions when he got home. Still, it was tempting to strip down; long sleeves and cargo pants had him in a perpetual sweat, not to mention the things the heat was doing to his hair..!

He'd already traveled to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain in a cable car, climbed the Selaron Steps, and tried to enjoy some of the more raucous nightlife in Lapa. One of the locals had expressed interest, but Jamie had resisted, despite the man's slight resemblance to the object of his search. The statue of Christ the Redeemer had been the highlight so far; the sense of peace, even in the enormous shadow of the thing, had been deeply moving. 

Cascatinha was a popular attraction, and Jamie had never seen a real waterfall before. That was his plan for the day: relaxing in nature, enjoying a light lunch, and pondering the mysteries of life. As a bonus, there would be shade, meaning Jamie could remove some of his clothing and let his skin take a breather.

The crowds were more sedate here, and Jamie sighed. The waterfall was, indeed, beautiful. He felt a pang of regret at being unable to take any photographs - too risky - but also knew that no photo would ever do the place justice. Several people, most of them women, were bathing in various states of decency at the bottom of the fall, and Jamie thought he spotted a familiar profile. The hair was different, dyed blonde in order to be less conspicuous, but.. nah, couldn't be.

When the woman began to sing, just playful little riffs, evoking Ariel's scale exercises in the Little Mermaid, Jamie's heart stopped, while his body propelled him forward.

Jamie had read about the myths and legends of Rio. The two he liked best were the encantado, or Boto Cor de Rosa, pink dolphins who shape-shift into beautiful men and seduce hapless young women; and the Alemoa, a woman of blonde hair and pale skin who seduces hapless young men. While Jamie no longer felt the sexual pull towards Bianca, he DID feel drawn to her. 

She was pouring water over her arms with her cupped palm, seemingly oblivious to the other women mere feet away from her. Her halter-top was a dark blue, soaked to a deeper shade, but thankfully opaque (though Jamie could tell from here that she wore no bra). What covered her lower half was obscured by the water. 

He didn't want to frighten her, and besides, he couldn't exactly risk calling her by her former name, could he?

"Perdon, senorita," Jamie fumbled, knowing it was Spanish, that it was wrong, but hoping she'd taken it in high school or something.

Bianca continued to sing, lost in her own little world. His heart was pounding, afraid to approach, but knowing he would die if he'd come all this way only to miss his chance. Where was her brother? Had something happened to him? Jamie had to know. If she drowned him afterwards like the Alemoa, so be it. 

"Te ho visto antes?"

THAT got her attention. She froze, debating on whether or not to turn around. Jamie thought of all those Sopranos episodes he'd watched when he was supposed to be sleeping, how that one wise-guy had accepted his imminent murder, simply begging, "Not the face, huh? For Mom? Not the face." Was Bianca weighing her options, waiting for a shot to the back, or what? 

She turned, facing the owner of the voice. "You shouldn't be here. Are you fuckin' NUTS?" Fear, anger, and something Jamie couldn't name but which made him feel guilty all jostled for dominance in her eyes. "Unless.. Are you here to tell us it's safe? To go home, I mean?"

Fuck. Jamie had never thought, never even considered, that his appearance might cause them to have false hope, to believe that their exile was over. "No. I don't.. I don't have news." He suddenly felt paranoid, like any of the tourists or locals around them could be informants for the Sanfinos still bent on revenge.

The climate had done wonders for her skin, though she had a weariness about her, too. There was no truly 'safe' place for someone with her background, and she carried that burden even as she swam with dolphins or rolled in white sands. Bianca was alive, but not free.

She moved to the water's edge, to where Jamie was currently crouched down, almost on one knee. "Why are you here? Not for me. So that leaves.." Something like a smile formed on her face, only, wrong, skewed. It was bitter and dry, and it crumbled quickly. "Ah. You want my brother."

She hadn't emphasized the word 'want,' but she didn't need to. She read him. Just as she'd somehow known to trust him when he was undercover, at least as far as him not being likely to kill her, Bianca had figured him out. Maybe her brother had let something slip? No. But what if he had? What did that mean? Did he feel safe telling her, thinking he'd never see 'Jimmy' again?

"He's okay, all things considered. He's at work," she explained, which really told him nothing at all. Bianca followed up with, "A LEGIT job, so you know."

Jamie felt his heart beating again, less pained now. "Oh. That's.. that's great." He tried to hide his disappointment, but she saw through his bullshit. 

"So you know.. I did like you. I don't know what he's said, or what you think you know, but.. I did - "

She stopped him cold. "You want me to take you to him? I mean, you can't trust a girl like me to tell the truth, right?"

Jamie felt bad for reasons he couldn't articulate. Too many reasons. "I need you to know.. how sorry I am. About.. your family. I know you must have loved them, at least a little bit, and I know I put you in an impossible situation. I'm glad you're alive, though."

"You don't know. I didn't love them. My brother is the only one I've ever trusted - go figure. The one who hid in the closet until his twenties, the one who tortured the man who sold him bad drugs, the one who DID drugs - and I felt safer with him than with any of the others." She sized him up for a moment. "You'd've made a decent bad guy. I mean one with limits, you know? With a conscience."

Jamie wasn't sure how to take that. Was it a compliment, or an insult?

"I'm not here to cause trouble. I just.. I heard a whisper of a rumor that you might be here now, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. BOTH of you." It was true. I mean, it was probably eighty-twenty towards her brother, but he wanted HER safe, too.

"You did what you had to do. You had a code to follow, and you bent it 'til it almost broke when it was the right thing to do. We had a code, too, and we bent it for you. Call it even."

Jamie offered her a hand up, and she took it, her skin slightly wrinkled from soaking for so long. "Still no ring," she teased him, and he was back in that bar, Bianca interrogating him about wives, girlfriends, friends with benefits..

Changing the subject, she began to fill him in on the restaurant where 'Paolo' worked. "I'm Aria, by the way."

Jamie laughed, but not in a mocking way. "That's fitting. It's beautiful."

She blushed a little. Jamie hoped things would stay this easy, this playful, when he reintroduced himself to 'Paolo.'

"So, the Italian names still?"

"Yeah, well, I had to draw the line SOMEWHERE. I gave up my social, my birthday, my whole life, but blood is blood. I am what I am."

"Blonde looks good on you."

She ran a hand through her shorter locks, fluffing them in the sun. "Yeah, sure. Never even knew South America had blondes 'til we got here. My great-greats came from Italy to New York, ignorant immigrants fresh off the boat, and now it's my turn, huh? I STILL can't get the language down. Which, by the way, is not Spanish."

Jamie smiled. "Yeah. Dumb move on my part. Lesson learned."

"Ever heard of Google?," Aria teased back.

Aria's clothing was dry by the time they reached the restaurant. Paolo wasn't owner, or even part-owner, but he was getting to improve his culinary talents, crafting an odd fusion of local cuisine and Italian fare which Aria jokingly referred to as 'Brazitalian.' 

"Wait here, okay? I don't want him getting spooked. I mean, I thought I'd gotten too much sun or hit my head on a rock or somethin' when I saw.. Just, wait here."

With that, Aria disappeared into the small kitchen.

Jamie wished he'd spent more time at the Cristo Redentor; he could really use an answer to his prayers.


	6. Chapter 6

Paolo made his way to the main dining area, eyes wide with disbelief. Aria had already briefed him, but hearing and seeing were two very different experiences.

"My God," was all he could say at first.

Aria pinched his arm. "Pretty much. An angel, at least."

"What are you.. How did you find us?" Paolo looked to his sister, who shrugged.

"I heard a rumor, the city's name came up. I took a chance."

"So you came all this way on a chance? A rumor?"

"Yeah. Sounds stupid when you say it out loud, huh?" Jamie felt suddenly shy, hundreds of different sentiments swirling inside of his mind like butterflies. Things like, "I've missed you," or, "Please don't hate me," or even garbled expressions involving the 'L' word. 

There was a long pause, their bodies leaning towards one another like trees in a storm, until Paolo broke first, moving forward and wrapping Jamie in a hug like he was a prodigal son who'd come home. Jamie could've imagined it, but it felt like Paolo left a damp spot on his neck as he withdrew. Probably sweat.

"Have you, uh, have you eaten yet?"

Jamie smiled. "You're gonna feed me? I'm Judas at the Last Supper, and you want to share a table with me?"

Aria worried her lip with her teeth, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Most of her 'ganster bravado' had been eroded by the harsher realities of her plight, the long days of trying to learn to blend in with a whole new nation, new culture, new language.. Here, she seemed so fragile, so small.

"You.. You know what, not here. Let me, uh, let me tell my boss a family emergency came up, and we'll book, okay? Don't go away." Paolo gave his sister a pleading look, silently asking her to keep Jamie there at any cost, and she rolled her eyes before letting a half-smile occupy her face. 

"I'm right here," he said weakly as Paolo disappeared into the kitchen. He heard some rather animated dialogue in Portugese coming from the back of the restaurant - PORTUGESE; Jamie couldn't get over it - and Paolo reappeared, flustered but ebullient. 

"We're good. Let's go." 

Aria didn't move. "You, uh, you want me to stay here, pick up some of the slack?"

Paolo gave her a long, loaded look, and she fidgeted beneath its intensity. "Well, on account of, you two have more.. history. Figure you don't want me taggin' along, you know?"

"Aria.. I.. Are you sure?" He was asking her so much more, the other words hanging unvoiced, dense as smoke.

"I'm sure. I mean, we have bills to pay, brother mine. If you're still around tomorrow, Jamie, come see me, yeah? I mean, if you want to." She glanced around before adding, "I sort of owe you my life."

Jamie nodded. "For sure. You do breakfast here?"

She grinned. "Only the best fusion cuisine in Rio," and with that, she turned on her heel and was gone.

The day had turned into what seemed like a strange dream. Jamie hoped he'd never wake up.


	7. Chapter 7

The restaurant hadn't exactly been an icebox, but even so, the shock of moving back outside into the heat of the day was a powerful one. Paolo's dark hair shone in the sun, light bouncing off of the wavy curls he had hated as a child, the ones that made Jamie's hands want to tunnel in deep and get stuck forever. Only, he knew they didn't have that long. Not even close.

Paolo was leading them somewhere, Jamie content to follow as they wove down one side-street after another. This man was violent, may still be, Jamie reminded himself. I should be more careful. I should be nervous.. 

He was nervous, but not that the man would harm him. It was more like.. first date nerves. Which was silly, in a way, seeing as they'd already.. you know. But in a way, it made sense, since everything was different now. 

Paolo made small talk in his breathless state, and Jamie took the time to answer in brief spurts, almost like a suspect being questioned. Paolo had trimmed down ever so slightly, and he looked a few years younger, his skin glowing with health. Jamie was glad; whatever hardships the siblings had endured, at least they both seemed to be in good physical health. He enjoyed the chance to just observe his friend, the way he moved, the way he still used his hands (some stereotypes had a grain of truth to them), the fact that he was alive and real and HERE...

When they reached a small grove of trees, Paolo stopped. 

"Where are we?" Jamie, trying to trust, still wanted to get a sense of his location. The cop-brain could be turned down, but not completely shut off.

"We're.. here," Paolo said, punctuated with a nervous laugh. "Those street vendors over there do the best tapiocas in Rio."

"Uh, no offense, but, tapioca? Like, lumpy pudding?"

Paolo shook his head, curls swaying with the movement. "No, man. They're more like omelets or crepes. Just.. I'll grab us some."

Jamie remembered the food in his bag. "I brought some lunch, but you go ahead. I mean, unless you want to split this?"

He began to pull his picnic from the bag, arranging the items on the grass. Paolo's eyes grew wide. "Where did you - ? You didn't get those here. You brought those, right?"

Jamie noticed the sleeve of Oreos Paolo was pointing at. "I brought them. Everybody has their weakness, their comforts they want no matter where they go. This is mine."

"I have been dreaming of those bad boys since the day we got here."

Jamie motioned for him to sit, opening the fresh-sealed packaging and offering him the first cookie. "So come on."

"No, I mean, literally, I had a weird dream about those the other night."

Jamie felt chills, despite the heat. "Well, here I am, making a dream come true."

Paolo popped one of the 'delicacies' into his mouth as he sat, a look of bliss coming over him. "No shit," he said, muffled by crumbs.

The rest of Jamie's 'lunch' was gone in a twinkling, each man suddenly ravenous. With some slight verbal arm-twisting, Jamie agreed to try 'tapioca.'

It was as Paolo had said. Jamie's was filled with chocolate, while Paolo had opted for a savory filling. They traded off, trying each one.

"Wow."

"Right?" Paolo was proud of his adopted cuisine. "I do a version of these at the restaurant, but this it the authentic way."

"So Brazil doesn't have Oreos?"

Paolo sighed. "Supposedly they're coming soon. I just.. I miss my old life. Sort of. Certain aspects of it."

Jamie looked around, wondering at every shadow, every passerby; could they be linked to organized crime? Could they be from law enforcement? What were they doing sitting out in the open like this?

The afternoon was drawing to a close, the heat of the day melting into the warmth of evening. "I know. I miss some things about being Jimmy. It's not the same, I realize that. But I get it. I kinda liked being part of a big, dysfunctional group."

"Family," Paolo corrected. 

"Okay, family. Don't recall making it official, but.."

Paolo picked up the thread of the joke. "Oh, yeah, that one night I got you drunk? I called a guy I know, Aria gave me away - very enthusiastically - and we got hitched right there in the basement of city hall."

"See, now I *know* you're lying. City hall doesn't HAVE a basement."

"You would know. Your old man probably has a key."

They both laughed. 

"We should head elsewhere. This spot turns kinda iffy at night."

"Iffy?"

"Well, kids, partying. Tourists hawking for trade. Drugs.. Y'know. Iffy."

"So you've stayed sober?"

Paolo patted his stomach. "My body is a temple, Jamie. The only poison in my system is Aria's attempts at cooking."

"Uh oh. So you taught her everything you know?"

"Hey! Let's just say, she should've stuck to singing."

The two of them peeled themselves from the grass, Paolo suddenly at a loss. "I can't take you home. I mean, don't take that as me being presumptuous - "

"I won't. If you trust me, I have a room. We can just, hang out. Talk."

Paolo's eyes grew darker, reminding Jamie of the chocolate swimming in his belly. "Yeah. I trust you for that. I mean, if you wanted me dead, all you had to do was nothing. Right?"

Jamie's mouth went dry, his throat constricting. "Right."

"So let's go."

Jamie, wondering whether he'd just made the best decision of his life or the worst one, took Paolo back to his hotel, fighting the urge to take his hand the whole trip.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realize the name switches back and forth between 'Noble' and 'Paolo.' It's kind of to show that neither man is fully comfortable with letting go of that identity, that chapter of their lives.
> 
> Hope it isn't too annoying :)

The hotel room was boiling, but that was all the more reason to get undressed. Jamie stopped at his undershirt and boxers, while Noble's shirt found its way to the floor. They left the lights off, allowing the street light to filter in through the naked window. 

"You want, uh, you want a drink?" Jamie felt bad, tempting the man, but Noble - he still couldn't call him by his assumed name of 'Paolo' - didn't blink as Jamie handed him a beer from the in-room refrigerator. "Shit. I'm sorry. I wasn't.. I wasn't thinking."

"No problem. I won't drink it, but it'll cool me down. Thanks." Noble ran the side of the bottle across his forehead, sighing as the glass left a trail of condensation on his burning skin. He shivered a little, and Jamie felt that movement, felt it as acutely as though there was an invisible string linking his nerves to Noble's.

Noble folded himself unselfconsciously into a sitting position on the floor, so Jamie followed him. 

"Okay. So, we're alone, like you asked. Now will you answer my questions?"

Noble laughed softly. "Is that an order, officer?"

"Not an officer. At least, not here. Pretty sure my jurisdiction stops at the outer tip of Staten Island."

Noble's mood sobered for a moment. "Right. But how can I be sure you don't have some sort of 'special circumstances' thing where you can use what I say against me?"

Jamie took a swig, and he barely let it touch his tongue; it wasn't what he wanted. "Then why are we here? Suspicion works both ways; I mean, for all I know, you've told somebody where I am, so they can beat me up, or worse."

'Paolo' looked as if he'd been slapped. "Hey, I was the one who got Uncle Phil to send 'Jimmy' a lawyer on HIS dime. My family has its faults, but we're not monsters. Nine times out of ten, those who get beat up, 'or worse,' deserved it. I tried to HELP you, man. I took you in under my wing, got you a job, a chance to make good money, hung out with you, and all the time you were - " He cut himself off, reading the label on the bottle, peeling it back by the corner.

Jamie thought back to the tune-up he'd received from Tesla prior to the man's murder. It had been out of line, even IF he'd been stealing from the company - which he had. (just not for the reasons they'd suspected). 

"You did. You sent the lawyer?"

"Uncle Phil sent him, at my request. I got beat up, too, more than you ever did. I stuck my neck out for you, told them they had you all wrong, that Jimmy was a stand-up guy overall, yada yada... but yeah. I begged him to. For you. You going down for Tesla's murder was NOT right. It wasn't what I wanted."

"And what DID you want? I mean, you had an out; you had the restaurant, you had a way to make money without going to prison for it. You were sober for a minute, and then, what - you threw it all away for your family?"

Paolo swallowed, imagining the taste of beer, of grappa or Sambuca or.. "You risked your life for your job. Your family lost a son; I looked you up." Jamie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yeah. I know all about your backstory now. Google, Facebook, the whole shebang. You put yourself on the line, and for what? To get some of my family arrested?"

Jamie should've mouthed off, maybe popped him one for talking about Joe; he had no right. Anyone else, and Jamie would've snapped. "It's more complicated than that. The call center scam wasn't violent, but there's the other stuff. Prostitution. Drugs. Human trafficking. People get hurt."

Jamie swallowed the pain he was feeling, tasting it as it tried to wash back up as bile.

"Yeah. People get hurt. I got hurt, too, Jamie. Did you?"

He set down his beer. "Of course I did. 'S why I'm here. I'm not asking for your forgiveness; I have no right to do that. I just wanted a chance to try to make you understand."

"Understand what?"

"Why I had to save you, even if it was kicking and screaming. I saw something in you, Noble, I dunno, a spark, a light, something. I knew you didn't belong in that life. I knew if you didn't get out, it would kill you."

Noble stood to his full height and turned to show Jamie the scar, the place where the bullet had pierced his shoulder. "You know what they call this, Jamie?"

As he rose, Jamie's fingers itched to touch the spot, to trace the scar, the skin where it had been scorched by the kiss of searing metal. He let his hand hover over the place, and Noble nodded consent, catching the gesture in his peripheral vision.

"Go ahead. Make it real for you."

Jamie's fingertip skirted the outline of the wound, feeling a flash of the pain, the heat, the confusion, the rush of blood as it had left Noble's body. 

"A through and through," Jamie said softly. "A clean shot."

"Yeah. The bullet went in, and then it went right back out again. Before I blacked out for surgery, I asked them to save it for me. Thing was, they couldn't. Nobody ever found it. It passed through me like I was nothing, and just kept going."

Jamie licked his lips, tasting sweat. He kept exploring, feeling the mottled texture of the skin there, how it was raised slightly. "I can feel it. The pain. The heat. The fear." The guilt. "I was trying to get you someplace safe, and they got to you first. I should've been there."

Noble scoffed. "What would you have done? Are you bulletproof? 'Cuz they would've lined up the shot to take us both out with one bullet if they could've. I guess there's a romance to that, huh? One bullet, two lives? Passing from one to the other?"

Jamie inched closer. He could smell Noble, wearing the fragrance he'd gifted to Jamie what seemed like a million years ago. He imagined he could smell the gunpowder, the metallic tang of blood, the salt of it.. and then his lips were there. Noble's arms hung loosely at his sides, not moving. Letting it happen.

"I'm so sorry. For.. for everything." Jamie whispered into his skin, wishing he could take the scars, plural, the aftermath of his lies, his betrayal. "You didn't give up on me. Even after you knew about the hit they put on me, you were coming to see me. You're not a monster. I tried to see you as one, but I couldn't."

"What did you see?" He spoke over his shoulder, afraid to turn, to face the man.

"I saw.. you. I saw how much you loved your family. Your sister. I saw how much you wanted that restaurant. I saw your fear of the others, and how you hated the life you'd been born to, the hand you'd been dealt. You could've killed that dealer, but you didn't. You could've left me to rot in a cell, but you didn't. You could've let your Uncle find me first, but you tried to bring me in safe."

"You didn't see all that."

"I did. You're better than them. It's why you did the right thing, even in the circumstances where you couldn't make everything better."

Noble faced him at last. Jamie made himself look into those eyes, those endless dark pools reflecting his own fear, his own self-loathing - and something altogether warming. Softer.

"I didn't want you to die. Even if you were a cop. I didn't.."

Jamie believed him. Holy Mother, he believed this man, against all reason, against all cop instinct. "I didn't want you to die. Even if you were a mobster."

They searched each other's faces for a long moment. "That time, at the hotel.. Was that you playing a role?"

Jamie didn't blink. "No. That was me. You got me that night. Not Jimmy. Not Officer Reagan. Just Jamie."

Noble edged closer. "And what about right now? Who are you? Who are WE?"

"I don't know. You tell me. Who are you? You make the rules now."

Jamie hoped the taste of his beer had dissolved before Noble's lips closed over his own.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't as tender and sexy as I'd planned, but it kind of took a different direction. 
> 
> I'll try again for sexy tenderness later in the story :)

All Paolo could do was hold on.

As they broke the kiss, Jamie leaned forward, their foreheads touching.

Paolo spoke. "You taste like.."

Jamie was listening, feeling drunk, the room spinning. "Like what?"

"Nerves. Regret. Loneliness."

"Sounds about right, chef," Jamie replied. "You taste like.. Family. Homesickness. Maybe fear."

"That's fair. I knew I'd miss the city; I just didn't think I'd miss any of the people. I didn't know you could be homesick for.. a person."

"And the fear part?"

Paolo considered the question. "I'm workin' on it."

They kissed again, losing themselves for a moment. Jamie's mind flashed bright with images of the two of them living together, of having access to these lips, this heart, on a regular basis. The stab of pain in his gut told him it could never be.

Who did Jamie want to be? He wanted to be himself. He was still a New York City police officer, and still the youngest Reagan. He was son of the police commissioner, a lukewarm churchgoer (there in body if not in spirit), a typically honest, wholesome guy - and yet here he was in some two-bit hotel in Rio, about to get off with the man who had almost gotten him killed, and whom HE had almost gotten killed. Jamie's friends, family and colleagues had no idea this side of him existed, the side which dreamt of lines and angles rather than dips and curves, of salt and sweat rather than sugar and spice. He'd never met anyone else like this man. Jamie had been propositioned by a broad spectrum of people, but no other male had ever.. ever..

"Jamie.." Noble's voice, thick, low. "Am I losin' you?"

"No. I.. A little. I'm just.. The first time, I could say it was experimenting, but now, I have to face it."

Noble was patient. 

"I still don't know who I am. I don't know who I'll be in the future. I only know right now. Right now, I'm the guy who wants to be with you."

"Then it's going to have to be enough."

Jamie suddenly felt a flash of jealousy. "Has there been.. I mean, since you got here, you must have.."

The fugitive shook his head. "I take care of myself. I can't bring myself to .. date. Not yet. And anyone I ever let get close to me will be a risk to me AND to her."

Jamie nodded. "Makes sense."

"I mean, Aria's climbing the walls at night - "

"Shut up, man!"

"I'm serious. You ever have a cat that won't quit yowling to get out to the yard?"

Jamie was dying. "That's terrible."

"So punish me."

Jamie had other ideas. "Noble - um, Paolo. I.. I didn't bring anything for sex. I didn't think I'd.." 

Noble let out a slow, shaky breath. "We'll work around it."

Jamie felt his face itching to split into a smile. "What does 'work around it' entail?"

"Everything but. Everything except the one thing I really, really.." But he was lost, lost in the man's skin, peppering kisses over every inch he could access, getting drunk on Jameson - the living version, far better than the bottle stuff.

Jamie let him, knowing his turn would come, sensing that his friend needed this with a hunger that went bone-deep, threaded into his marrow, every cell. The man was thorough in the kitchen, and he was thorough in the bedroom; if Noble had been born a woman, his family would be singing 'her' praises - even cynical Erin and smart-mouth Danny. That tantalizing dream of domestic bliss was shimmering in the shadows again, a mirage Jamie swore he could almost touch. He should be thinking in terms of physical pleasure, of scratching the itch, of getting off and getting over it, but this moment was too hot and real and alive to be used up and cast aside.

Noble was in heaven. The beautiful boy he'd dreamt of and prayed for - prayed for before he knew it was 'wrong,' and then afterwards, more fervently - was right in front of him, hard and needy and putty in his hands. He just had to find a way to make this boy love him, to want to stay... 

A child's dream. Nobody like him, with the past he still bore as surely as a scar, and with the constant threat of future violence and destruction, could ever, would ever, should ever, get to keep a man like Jamie. 

Jamie glanced down, running his hand through that unruly mop of hair, not giving a damn if he mussed it up or got stuck. He wondered why someone as handsome as Noble, as witty and powerful, even now, would still want him. He was so.. ordinary. He was the good boy next door, the one classmates had nothing bad to say about, because he barely registered in their memories. Jamie was an everyman; he could be a college kid on a jaunt, or an insurance salesman, or a substitute teacher; vanilla, bland, empty. Noble was..

Noble was determined. His lips dallied at the waistband of Jamie's boxers, hands tugging them down and out of his way. Jamie looked at the window, at the light coming in from the street. He wanted it to be the lights of THEIR city, the too-bright, chaotic flashes of color, white marquee bulbs, stock exchange ticker-tape and breaking news.. But no, he decided; this was better. Jamie could pretend it was the minimalist light of a residential area, some non-descript New York suburb with its energy-efficient bulbs and regular neighborhood watch meetings where the old folks complained it wasn't well-lit enough and the younger folks said it was too bright. His dick jerked at the idea of doing the most mundane things: buying groceries, bickering over who paid which bill, cutting the grass.. The self-professed Mr. Average had a domesticity kink.

"Oh.. like that," Jamie said as he found his lips forming words without conscious effort on his part. They could find new jobs, ones that wouldn't get Jamie fired for being with someone like Paolo. Maybe he could go back to practicing law; everyone expected attorneys to be sleazy lying scumbags, so his unethical behavior would take the form of dating an ex-mobster. Paolo cleaned up nice, looking respectable; they'd go to dinner once a week, quiet little no-name places without wine lists (or, if there was a wine list, it would be short), to shows, to art galleries and history exhibits and shopping for even more respectable clothes. There would be coffee dates, and walks in the dozens of city parks, and and and..

"Paolo.." Jamie felt the name in his mouth, wrong, awkward, a lie of the worst kind. It hit him then: all of this was temporary. Not just his visit. Noble and Bianca's life here would crack, would revert to something of the old ways and give away their identities. It was too pieced-together, and the stitches were about to give. Noble would always be Noble, not Paolo or Billy or whatever stupid name authorities concocted for him. Their safety was a joke to those who had promised it, knowing full well there was no way to see it through. Thousands of witnesses, turn-coats in evil men's eyes, were scattered throughout the world, living lives of quiet desperation, just waiting their turn for that one slip-up, that one moment of weakness when they used the wrong name or the wrong accent or called 'home', or the traitorous kisses of a friend to prove to be their undoing.

Paolo and Aria were already in danger, and Jamie was adding fuel to the fire. Jamie would always have enemies for what he'd done, and the long arm of the law could not scoop up every member of organized crime. Already there would be new recruits, young blood, stepping up to fill the void left by the dead and the incarcerated. Ghosts and legends lured them to 'the life,' wave after wave of them, and Jamie knew then that he needed to be in hiding just as much as Paolo and Aria needed it. He also knew it would be equally futile. There was no negotiating with someone who didn't care if they died, as long as they got what they wanted. When someone was prepared to suffer the ultimate loss in pursuit of a goal, there was nothing left to threaten them with.

The fear mingled in with the lust and the compassion, the humanity of their plight, making Jamie see stars as his brain short-circuited. Paolo's mouth worshipped at the fountain of Jamie's maleness, wanting to give him this gift of himself, and in return, wanting to suck him in completely and never spit him out. The room spun, and as Jamie reached the point of no return, his mind a whirl of blood and gore spattering white picket fences, of an endless succession of hiding places and new names and made-up backstories all becoming a useless blur, he wanted to pull away, to avoid tainting the young man on his knees with his sticky-sweet baptism of doom.

"Jamie," Paolo murmured between sucks, half out of his mind. "Say it."

Jamie knew: the man wasn't asking for promises, or for a declaration of tender affection; he was asking for something so basic, so undeniably important and equally damning. Jamie gave it to him.

"Noble."

The mouth resumed, worked faster, pleading without words.

"Noble. Don't stop.. Please. Noble.."

Jamie came, flew to pieces inside the universe of Noble's mouth. Noble came, too, without physical issue, the pulsing release nevertheless making his body jerk as he heard his true name uttered by the only man who gave him life, gave him himself.

There was nothing for a moment, just two hearts beating, labored breaths, body parts and memories of what had never been and could never be. The world had gone away, but as the spasms receded, it rushed in again, crowding them, making Jamie want to leave the room through the window, to slither out into the night without his shameful skin. Noble rested his head against Jamie's stomach, and he wept, the cum mixing in with the tears. Jamie said nothing, just stroked the man's hair, his touch soothing where words would only fail.

"Thank you," said the one on his knees.

Jamie needed a priest. He needed absolution. Every choice that had led him to Rio, and his very existence, were heaping damnation upon the man that he loved. 

"I'm sorry," Jamie said, but Noble misunderstood.

"It was perfect. Don't apologize."

Jamie slid down the wall, becoming level with his lover. "Can you stay? I mean, your sister.."

Paolo - for he had to be - shook his head no. "I better check on her. Maybe another night, but not.."

"I understand. It's late. Should I, uh, stop by for breakfast?"

Paolo's heart was almost back to normal pace, though it would never be fully normal. Not now. "Yeah. You'd better, or she'll kill us both." He laughed, but it was hollow. Death was an ever-present shadow, and he knew that his love for his sister meant he couldn't leave her, which doubled their odds of being found. Love was life, and love was death.

"Okay. I'll be there."

Paolo let himself out, his needs only half-met. Jamie wondered how he'd go on, knowing there was no other like this for him - but at least he had options. He could live free, compared to his lover; he could settle for second-best and forge a counterfeit version of happiness. For Paolo, there was no other way, no back-up choice. Jamie had killed him already.

Jamie barely slept, wishing for morning, and yet dreading it, too, knowing every moment he spent with Paolo or Aria placed them in more danger.

Back in prep school, Father Donovan's favorite verse had always been Luke 8, verse 17: "For there is nothing hidden that will not become manifest, nor secret which shall not be known and come to light." 

If it was a sin to pray for God to change Scripture, Jamie thought, he'd add it to his list.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So apparently breakfast is not a huge affair for most Brazilians, but, this is my story, so I'll do it how I want. :) #research #dramaticlicense

Jamie was starving for more than food, but, considering Aria would be there (and it was broad daylight in a public space), he would settle for breakfast.

He found his way back to the restaurant, which was busier now than it had been the evening prior; apparently the locals loved breakfast in general, and loved THIS breakfast in particular.

The street vendors hawked their wares from outside, but Jamie paid them no mind as he entered the restaurant. Aria grinned when she saw him, seating him and bringing him a local drink which she explained was called a caipiruccino, a hybrid of the traditional (though not for mornings!) drink of Rio, the 'caipirinha', and a cappuccino. Jamie arched a brow, leaning back in his seat and studying her face for a moment before she sat down. 

"What? Just try it. You of all people should be sold on the 'don't knock it 'til you try it' thing," Aria teased, lacing her voice with innuendo. Jamie flushed, taking a sip as she added, "Besides, there's no alcohol in this one."

Jamie sputtered as it burned its way down. Aria laughed.

"Well, not much. Just a little."

"Thanks for the warning," he croaked. 

The drink was a little heavy on something, and a little light on something else; apparently mixology was neither sibling's forte. The food, however..

There was a wide array of different sweet breads to please any Brazilian or Italian palette, complimented with fresh fruits, cold cuts and cheeses, and a glass of orange juice which made Jamie sigh with relief after the caipir- the caipirin - the drink he wasn't even going to try to pronounce.

It wasn't 'cooked' food, per se (though he was amazed at the light, fluffy texture of the breads; how did Paolo do that?), but it was nourishing and delicious, and everything was artfully presented. The other diners seemed to agree, judging by the stacks of empty plates and the tips left by those who had already had their fill.

Aria rejoined him as Jamie was polishing off one of the best versions of a 'crostata' that he'd ever tasted, asking him if it was to his liking.

"This food is amazing. I'm almost sorry I didn't stay for dinner last night," he confessed, and something in her eyes shifted as he said it.

"Yeah, well, I gather you had a bite when you left."

Jamie fidgeted, uncomfortable with broaching that subject with a woman he'd almost.. "Aria, are you..? I mean, I don't want you to be upset by me being here. You have enough problems as it is. Both of you do."

She shrugged. "I'm happy that he's happy. Really. I just.." Here, she paused, glancing back at the kitchen. "I worry about him. He may be my older brother, but he's not as big and bad as he likes to think he is."

Jamie accepted that. "You're right."

"I gotta say, whatever you did to him, he came home humming. He hasn't hummed or sung since, like, grade school, easy. And he's been a whiz in the kitchen this morning; at this rate, all the daily bread will be done before the lunch crowds get here."

Aria was beaming now, and Jamie reflected that smile, feeling more at ease. "I'm glad. He worries about you, too, you know. For lots of reasons."

"I gotta get back to the other tables. Enjoy the rest of your day." She seemed like she meant it, but when she froze and turned to face him once more, Jamie's heart stopped for a beat. Was she going to spit venom at him after all?

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for.. visiting us. Makes me feel less crazy."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that other life.. seems like a faraway dream. Sometimes I think I made it all up in my head, you know? But seeing you again.."

He felt that hot, creeping dread again, toying with the notion of taking another sip of his awful concoction just to distract himself, or maybe as punishment. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

"Yeah. Sure thing. You enjoy the rest of your day, too."

Aria brushed something from the corner of her eye as she got back to work. 

Paolo finally got a break from oven duty, settling at the table like he needed lots of space, arms and legs wide. "I'm glad you showed."

"Me too," said Jamie, patting his slightly carb-inflated midsection.

"So, do you have plans for today?"

Jamie shook his head no, never leaving Paolo's gaze. "Nope. I'm easy."

"Great. I'm almost done back there, just a few more batches. I'll show you around some of the best spots."

"You're the one with the map," Jamie said, playing with a throwaway remark from Noble, putting it into a new context.

"That's right, my friend. Just let me finish up while you sit here and take in the ambience."

Jamie took Paolo's advice, looking around at the other diners. It was strange, his cop brain wondering at the story of each of them, who they were, who they wanted to be, where they were from, where they were going.. In what seemed like no time at all, having gotten lost in his own thoughts, Jamie felt Paolo at his side, an expectant smile on his face.

As they stepped out into the sunshine, Jamie had an odd feeling about one of the other diners, something that made him turn back. Sure enough, that man was leaving, too, one hand cupped over a cell phone as he spoke in a low tone. Paolo stopped, waiting for Jamie, and the cop shook it off, determined not to let the moment of heaviness cast a shadow over the rest of the day.


	11. Chapter 11

'Doing nothing' was an art form, and it took some getting used to. Jamie followed where his lover led him, taking lessons from Paolo. Each place they stopped seemed more beautiful than the last, and Jamie wondered how that was possible, considering the route wasn't planned. Maybe it was the magic of Rio, or the novelty of being somewhere so unlike any other place he'd traveled. Or maybe, just maybe, Jamie mused, it was because he was in love.

For a few hours, he forgot about the skeevy guy at the restaurant. As the duo stopped at a street cart for a snack of pao de quieo, however - it was a Brazilian tourist cliché, but the best clichés are rooted in solid reasoning, and this was one of them - Jamie started to feel uneasy again. All around them, people spoke in a variety of languages, but those speaking English - as a first language - began to catch his ear. An oddly disheveled man in a suit leaned against a storefront, catching his breath. He didn't look local, and Jamie felt like he seemed familiar - but that was impossible. Wasn't it? Then again, the odds of running into Paolo and Aria in a city of millions were pretty stacked against him, too. The man felt him staring, and, returning that stare for a moment, disappeared around a corner. By the time a gaggle of pedestrians had moved out of the way, Jamie had lost sight of the guy.

"You okay?" Paolo's voice, sweet with concern and tinged with curiosity, bringing him back to the moment.

"Yeah. Where to next?" 

Paolo held a piece of the tempting cheese bread between his thumb and forefinger, and Jamie opened his mouth obediently. "Well, if you didn't object, I was gonna suggest a pit-stop at a local pharmacy."

Jamie's head snapped at that. "Oh? You got a headache or somethin'?" He was trying for levity, hoping it was playful and sexy.

"Not a chance. Well, maybe a head.. ache, but.."

Jamie took the hint. Paolo seemed to know the way, and Jamie shrugged, falling into step. The streets became narrower, and the two of them were almost holding hands, forced to walk close together. It was tempting.

The building was air conditioned, obviously catering to the visitors used to cool, efficient pharmacies back home. Once inside, Jamie let out a low whistle; it was like going into another world, like -

"This looks so much like the Walgreens in Times Square. I feel like if we looked out the window, we'd see giant electronic billboards."

"Disorienting, isn't it? Okay, let's see.. Ah. 'Planejamento familiar.' That sounds about right."

His hand touched Jamie's, fleetingly, like it was forbidden. Like he was making Jamie palm something to swipe. Jamie felt the burn of that slight touch, then the acute chill of its absence.

This was getting out of hand. His hormones must be on overdrive from being celibate for so long, or maybe the sun was getting to him..

Paolo deciphered the various coded and euphemized packages, finally finding what he wanted. "Okay. These seem to be designed for what we need. You need to pick up anything else before we pay?"

Jamie looked at the array of lubricants. "Could you translate what these say? I don't want anything leaving a rash or sending us to the E.R."

Paolo selected a bottle of bright red liquid. "Uh, the gist of it is 'warm, tingling sensations for explosive party times."

Jamie laughed. "No way. Bull."

Paolo, getting into the spirit of it, selected another, this one a bright electric blue. "Oh, hey, this one says it'll let you see the face of God."

Jamie shook his head. "C'mon, be serious. Just.."

Paolo found a product which claimed to 'prolong ecstasy and promote intimacy.' As he translated for Jamie, a change came over them, a charge of current crackling between them.

"What's it taste like?," Jamie wanted to know.

"Hmm. Watermelon."

Blown away by Paolo's lingual skills, Jamie placed the bottle in the basket. "I'm ready." Then, "To check out."

"Me, too."

The afternoon sun could be as merciless as he pleased; the two of them were headed indoors to create their own heat. 

Jamie turned around only twice as they found their way back to his hotel. Each time, he'd felt sure someone was watching them, but he'd failed to catch anyone in the act.

"You're smart to watch your back. Pickpockets love this part of town," Paolo warned, brushing it off as no big deal. Jamie hoped the presence of a thief was all he'd picked up on as they ducked inside.

The illusion of safety, of normality, was sexier to Jamie than anything he had ever imagined in his darkest fantasies. The latter half of the day stretched out before them, and Jamie was determined to make the most of it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If a man licking another man's anus makes you uncomfortable, don't read this chapter.
> 
> Thanks :)

The room was hot, but as Jamie drew the curtains closed, at least it was darker. He almost wished he hadn't booked in such a cheap hotel, but he felt guilty enough spending so much on the flights and taking so many days off work; he'd had to cut costs somewhere.

Paolo seemed to shift into a slower speed, clothing being removed in languid movements, carelessly dropped to the floor. Jamie envied him, his lack of self-consciousness, and hoped to emulate it. This trip wouldn't last forever; perhaps that was what made his lover so bold.

Jamie looked at the man is if seeing him for the first time. Paolo had stripped himself bare in every way, even after everything Jamie had put him through, first as an officer, then as a man. His arm had the full range of motion despite its date with a bullet, Jamie was glad to note; at least that was something.

Jamie began to undress, too, not wanting to rush, but not wanting to be left behind, either. Such unabashed trust deserved the same in kind, and Jamie tried.

Paolo took a step towards him, resting his fingers butterfly-light on Jamie's hips. "You're beautiful," he said, like it was nothing, when it was, in fact, everything.

"I think that's my line," Jamie said, but his voice shook as he did so.

Their lips met, and it went through the young officer's mind on a loop: This is who I am. This is what I want. This is WHO I want. Women were beautiful, sure, and they could be lovely human beings, but Jamie had found something in this flawed, broken man - a MAN! - that he knew he wouldn't find in another. Paolo had found the chink in his armor, the secret door in the walls of his heart, and now love was flooding in like sunlight.

"I mean it, Jamie. You're.." His hands brushed over the baby-fine hairs which covered the tops of Jamie's thighs. 

How had he expected this man to behave in an intimate context? Brutal and demanding, like he was when he zipped around the boroughs in his mob-money cars? Drunk and sloppy, drooling from the drugs he once loved? Cold and precise, exacting his pleasure and then leaving? Paolo had been a bundle of contradictions: demanding, but in a pleading, desperate sort of way; aggressive, but in the pursuit of giving; noisy, but in a vulnerable, helpless sense. Jamie had touched the core of a mystery, the man nobody else truly knew. Paolo had given him that. What was that, if not love?

That had been the first time. If Jamie had known it could have well been their only time, he would've put more effort into the proceedings - but then, there was something to be said for the innocence of it all, the blind leading the blind until they had tumbled gleefully over the cliff's edge holding hands. Things never unfolded the way they did in movies or romance novels, and Jamie had read a few. Some of the female officers used them to unwind, and he'd skimmed a chapter here and there in the break room at work, but there was nothing in those pages that spoke of this, of the way two men could fit together, heart and soul, the way they could find their match, their equal, in one of their own kind -

Paolo was dribbling lube into his cupped palm, nudging Jamie towards the bed. "Just a massage first," he murmured, and Jamie laid down on his front, watching the light from outside that managed to illuminate the curtains. His hands were softened by the lube, sliding over Jamie's skin with ease. As Paolo's fingers pulled at the tension which never seemed to leave his body, Jamie sighed. He felt unworthy of Paolo's praise, unworthy of this tender touch, and yet he soaked it up greedily, too small of a man to protest.

The magic hands kneaded and reshaped his muscles into looser, happier versions of themselves, and Jamie noticed his slow breathing, the way he was melting into the bed. He felt as though, if he focused, he could slip out of his body for a moment, but he was afraid he wouldn't be able to get back in, and he wanted very much to be in his body when Paolo was with him.

"So good," Jamie said at last, and Paolo's smile burned into the back of him from where he sat astride the officer. 

"This is just the beginning."

Jamie swallowed the sound of that, wanting to believe it, wanting it to be true in ways Paolo probably hadn't intended.

"You'll make somebody a wonderful wife someday," Jamie teased.

"Is that a proposal?"

Jamie's face burned against the sheet. He was smiling, too.

Those dreams of what couldn't be flitted at the edges of his mind. Love meant more than sex; it meant affection, simple touches throughout the day, sitting close on the sofa, exchanging glances or soothing pats, holding hands.. Jamie had always been 'good' at sex with girls - nobody had complained - but the urge to be close, just for the sake of it, had eluded him. When it was time for sex, Jamie went into touch mode, but when it came to public displays of affection, he had always had to think about it and make an effort. It hadn't come naturally. With Paolo, he had the opposite problem; Jamie had suddenly become tactile, wanting to touch even if it didn't lead to sex, needing it -

Paolo's hands had shoved Jamie's hips into the mattress, making something give in his lower back until Jamie moaned in relief. "God.. what did you just to do me?"

The hands continued to move lower, tenderizing Jamie's thighs and calves, with special attention paid to his ass. Jamie didn't particularly think much of that part of himself; when it came to the Reagan siblings, his brother Danny had gotten the lion's share in the booty department - but Paolo thought it was perfect. He rolled the cheeks, cupped them, kneaded, spread them slightly without straying between, and generally got them thoroughly coated in lubricant. 

Jamie expected Paolo to ask him to turn over, but the man continued onward to his feet, which he hadn't noticed were sore until that moment. The way Paolo handled him there, Jamie was putty. Was this why so many women loved getting a foot massage? Jamie imagined doing this for Paolo after a long day of being on his feet in the kitchen, and a whimper slipped past his lips.

"You good, Jamie?"

"Oh, yeah. Everything you're doing feels amazing."

When Paolo released his feet, Jamie expected to be asked to turn over onto his back. Instead, he heard, "Let's see if it really tastes like watermelon."

Jamie felt the flutter of lips on his left ass cheek, then on the right. He gasped.

"Paolo?"

Paolo slowly, slowly licked a trail across Jamie's ass, stopping at where the cheeks parted. "Has anyone ever..?"

Jamie remembered one drunken encounter in college when a girl had tried to lick him there, and he'd clenched up so tight he wondered he didn't pull a muscle. "Never."

Paolo sighed. "Me neither. Is it okay?"

Jamie was in mild shock. Paolo wanted to lick his ass? When in Rio...

"I.. Are you sure that's something you want?"

Paolo just waited, breathing. After a moment, Jamie spoke. "I guess so. If you don't like it, though, you have to - "

Paolo didn't wait for further permission. Jamie groaned into the mattress as the scalding intrusion, ashamed at how much he enjoyed the feeling, yet helpless to stop it. 

He choked out the man's name, or something close to it. That tongue continued to move, and Jamie almost floated off the bed, hips involuntarily pushing back towards his lover in a silent plea for more.

Paolo seemed to be enjoying himself, and Jamie reeled at that. Just when he thought he'd experienced the last taboo, his lover took him to a new level.

Jamie felt the chill of saliva cooling on his skin as Paolo backed off, seemingly having had his fill for the time being.

"Get over here," Jamie husked, and Paolo complied, kneeling down at eye-level with Jamie.

Jamie raised himself onto his elbows and pulled him close for a kiss, not giving a damn. All he tasted was watermelon, with a slight hint of something else, strange but not unpleasant. 

"You spoil me." Jamie wasn't sure if he truly said it aloud or simply thought it, but either way, it was true. The kiss deepened, and soon the two of them were on the bed, moving in slow motion, slick hands meeting thirsty skin, hard muscle meeting hard muscle.

Jamie forgot for a moment - forgot that he'd have to go home in a matter of days; forgot about the creeping feeling that someone was watching him, or watching *them.* It was a risk he could ill afford to take, but the human heart can not be trained in the same manner as the body or the mind. He told himself with every breath that what they were doing was not breaking any rules - for he was writing his own rules now, with a man who had broken more than his fair share.

"We need one of those other things now," Jamie managed to say, hating that they needed one, but knowing he had to protect them both.

Paolo nodded, and the sound of the foil wrapper being torn made Jamie's insides clench in anticipation. The smallest sounds had taken on new levels of meaning, and he felt sure he'd never hear that particular sound again without being immediately drawn back into this moment, the memory of what they were about to do. 

He loved the way Paolo's eyes got darker and took on a glazed, stoned expression as their bodies joined. Jamie Reagan was Noble's greatest high, and there was power in that - power and danger and mystery waiting to unfold.

Paolo - Noble - whoever he was - tried to be slow, but within minutes they were striving towards the peak, pushing each other up the incline to that perfect point of release. Jamie did nothing to discourage him, focusing on his breathing, the pounding of two hearts, the heat of the room and the sound of skin on skin. Someone - Jamie couldn't swear who - choked out something akin to a declaration of love, close enough to taste - and then they were falling, falling, and all the world was sensation without any need for words.

Paolo kissed and kissed and kissed him like Jamie was air, unwilling to withdraw until it was absolutely necessary. "I swear I can do better than that," Paolo said, hoping, but not knowing for sure, that it was true.

Jamie laughed, the sound making his muscles clench Paolo within him and causing him to gasp. "It was amazing. Really. I'm a guy; I get it." 

Paolo seemed almost shy, and Jamie touched his cheek, forcing him to own the moment. "I'm serious. You never let me down."

Paolo knew they should rest, should probably sip some water, maybe clean up a little - but it would kill the mood. As if reading his mind, Jamie pulled him in for another kiss.

They were still reasonably young, and, more importantly, they were in love, meaning it wouldn't be long 'til they were ready for another round. In the meantime, they could enjoy each other without that crushing, breathless urgency taking over.

Somewhere beyond the walls of their love-nest, there were God knew how many people wishing them harm, but here, now, they were safe. Here, now, each man had all he could ever want or need.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violence and the threat of violence

How long had they been holed up in that room, subsisting on water and each other? Hunger pangs were drowned out by appetites of a more insistent nature, until the day had quite gotten away from them.

"I think you've done it," Jamie commented. Oh, that sweetly deadpan face; how it got to Paolo every time.

"What do you mean?"

"I think you've managed to show me every amazing spot in Rio in less than a day."

Paolo play-punched his lover in the arm. "Whatever."

"What? I mean, what more could a guy want? Hills and valleys, waterfalls.. caves.."

"Don't be crass," Paolo said, blushing.

"I thought it was poetic, actually. I referred to your mouth and your ass as 'caves.'"

Paolo knew he couldn't stay over; leaving his sister alone all night was risky in so many ways. Jamie insisted on at least seeing Paolo home. Under the circumstances, Paolo had no logical reason to refuse; I mean, he was sleeping with the guy. If Jamie was there to carry out a hit, he'd had plenty of chances. Still, there was a sense of unease as the two love-worn and hungry men wended their way to Paolo and Aria's digs.

"You better not show up empty-handed," Jamie warned. "If memory serves me, women like surprises - especially edible ones, and especially after being left alone all day." As he finished speaking, he pointed towards a street vendor hawking something just sweet enough to please without causing a sugar rush to keep her up all night, and Paolo took the hint.

The two of them shared their own generous helping of the treats, and Jamie thought that nothing had ever tasted so good - though it may have been the company rather than the recipe which made it so.

Paolo stopped abruptly as the street narrowed. "Are you going to be able to find your way back from here without me?"

Jamie chuckled. "If I can find my way through the diabolical labyrinth that is NYC, I can find my way here. I've been making a mental note of various landmarks as we walk."

"You sure you got this?"

Jamie sensed that Paolo didn't want him to see the actual house, and he sighed. "If this is my stop, then this is my stop."

Paolo, glancing over each shoulder, pulled Jamie against a wall, crushing him with a goodnight kiss outside of the streetlight's glare. "Thank you for understanding."

Jamie wasn't sure he fully understood, but there was slight fear in Paolo's eyes. Did he know they were being followed? Was he protecting Jamie?

"Will I see you tomorrow?," Paolo asked softly.

"Try to stop me. I'll swing by for breakfast. Just - "

"She won't be making your drink," Paolo interjected, reassuring his lover.

He stood watch as Paolo disappeared around a corner with a brief and boyishly shy backward glance. The neighborhood was quieter than where Jamie was staying, and he told himself it was the increase in noise and foot traffic which had him on edge as he made his way back to his temporary home.

Despite his unease, Jamie crashed into a dreamless sleep, not rousing until the sun began to bake the room despite the thick curtains. 

"Breakfast time," he mumbled to himself, hastily throwing on whatever clothes were to hand. He'd see that his anxieties had evaporated in the sun, that Paolo and Aria were all smiles, ready to impress him with yet another array of fusion foods -

\- only, they weren't at the restaurant.

Jamie wished he'd had Paolo teach him some Portugese so that he could get more information, then decided it was better to just track the pair down without alerting too many people to his relationship to the siblings.

Running on empty, still sore and worn out from the day before but flooded with adrenaline, Jamie found the neighborhood in daylight.. and his world crashed down around him. 


	14. Chapter 14

The door to the house was open, the rooms in disarray. Two cellphones and two sets of keys were flung to various points of the living room, along with the remnants of Aria's food. A table had been knocked over, a chair splintered against the wall, marring the paint. Jamie did a cursory check of the other rooms, praying it was a home invasion and that the brother and sister were simply injured or hiding somewhere. He considered alerting the local police, but what if that made things worse? What if the pair were still alive, and a manhunt pushed them towards being eliminated - or what if someone on the force was corrupt?

Jamie's mind was reeling. As he tasted the bile of panic threatening to rise from his empty stomach, he asked himself the question which normally never crossed his mind, and for good reason. In this situation, though, it made perfect sense. "What would Danny do?"

Pocketing the phones and one set of keys, he locked up behind him. If this was a kidnapping, there would be a ransom, right? Who would the kidnappers contact? Him? And who would ransom two nobodies who had once been mafia brats? 

As Jamie headed a different way toward the main road, he heard a whimper of pain which went straight to his solar plexus. Was there a patron saint for this situation? Jamie couldn't imagine, but he sent up a quick spiritual distress call anyway, just to cover all the bases. Stepping through discarded garbage, he came across the bruised and beaten body of his lover. 

"Paolo.."

"They took Aria." He sounded hoarse; how long had he been here? Since last night? Jamie should've made sure Paolo got home, should've - 

"Please. We have to find her."

"Who did this to you? Are you in some kind of trouble here?"

Paolo shook his head, weeping into the crook of his arm. "I don't know who they are. I haven't done anything to piss anyone off; they just.."

Jamie took as many details as he could from his prone lover, all while checking the extent of his injuries. He knew Paolo would refuse medical attention, especially while his sister was missing. He needed to know how many kidnappers there were, and anything else he could glean before looking for a needle in a haystack.

"Did they say anything? It's important, Paolo. Try to remember."

"They were angry. The two leaders were arguing about something - me, I think. One wanted to take me; the other said, 'No, he gets the money for us.' And they left me."

He wept again.

"Okay. That's good, Paolo. That's helpful. Anything else? About where they were going, what they wanted..?"

Paolo groaned, helpless. "I wish I knew. I offered them all the money we had, offered to go instead of her - but they just kept hitting me.."

Jamie helped him up, watching in slow motion. He was in crisis mode, and he knew the shock would wear off soon - to be replaced by rage.

"I need to know everyone you've associated with since being here, Paolo. Anyone who might have figured out who you used to be."

Paolo looked ashen. "You think this is to do with our old life, don't you? You don't think it's some random kidnapping?" There was desperation in his voice, fishing for hope that this was just awful, shitty luck, but Jamie's gut was telling him not to offer that hope.

"I don't think this is random. Why would they think someone who works at a restaurant had the money to pay a ransom?"

Paolo bit back a sob. "I shouldn't have agreed to live with her. The two of being in the same place just makes it easier to find us. I brought this on her. Jamie, if anything happens to her - "

Jamie's mind flashed with a reel of images: Aria bound to a chair, being beaten and interrogated; Aria crying in a dark room with no one to comfort her; Aria being held down and -

"This isn't on you. There isn't time for a pity party; your sister needs you."

Paolo's mind was racing. "Do you have your - ? I mean, did you bring your.. work stuff?" He meant 'gun,' but didn't dare say the word.

"No. You should know better than that; they didn't let YOU bring any with you, did they?"

Paolo sighed, his breath leaving in a shaky rush. "There are people.. I know where you could get something like that."

Jamie felt his heart racing. He knew Brazil had a lot of red tape surrounding obtaining a firearm, and there wasn't time. But buying one illegally? He was risking going to prison in a foreign country.. Then again, the kidnappers had guns, so what choice did they have?

"Paolo, you need to get together whatever money you have, and I'll do the same. We can't go looking for her empty-handed."

Paolo knew he meant money for weapons and a ransom. They were already tuned in to one another, communicating without having to say things out loud.

"I can do that. I keep it in the restaurant safe."

Jamie nodded. "I need you to take the day off. Don't give anything away; somebody at work could be the mole. Act like it's no big deal."

Paolo knew Jamie was right. He'd need to clean up first, minimize the appearance of his injuries, come up with a cover story in case anyone asked questions...

"I'll meet you by the ATM across from your work."

Paolo froze. "You aren't walking there with me?"

Jamie gave him a look, letting Paolo figure it out. 

"You don't want my coworkers to see me with you, in case it puts any of us in more danger."

"It isn't personal. I promise. And, Paolo, I swear to you, I will do everything I can to help you get your sister back safe."

Paolo closed his eyes, taking a hard swallow. The truth of Jamie's words rang through him like a bell, vibrating every nerve ending, every part of him. "I know you will." Jamie was going to risk his career, his good name, even his life, all over again - for Aria. For Paolo.

Paolo turned to walk away. "Your phone," Jamie prompted. "In case they call. I'll keep hers on me."

Paolo nodded. "If you're not at that ATM.."

Jamie tried for a smile. "If I'm not there, it means I'm dead. They'll have to kill me to keep me away from you today."

With that, the men split up, Jamie taking an alternate route to the same destination.


	15. Chapter 15

Jamie and Paolo rendezvoused as agreed, Paolo's khaki shorts now slightly bulkier thanks to the cash hidden in custom-made inner pockets.

Old habits die hard, and Paolo had formed enough tenuous links to those on the darker side of life to cover just such a situation. Would he ever truly be 'normal'? Could he ever live a clean life, without one eye constantly straying towards the shadows? 

"You ready for this?," Jamie asked.

Paolo swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah."

The meeting went as well as could be expected, Paolo's contacts getting back to him fairly quickly. Jamie noted they used burner cells, probably linked to location-scrambling software, allowing them to keep the same numbers but fly under the radar. Highly illegal, but also very efficient at avoiding arrest. These guys were not to be trifled with.

Jamie was uncomfortable using a gun which probably had multiple bodies on it, his fingers absently rubbing the spot where the serial numbers had once been. Did two wrongs make a right?

Paolo stared at his piece, feeling the weight of it in his hand. "I know you probably think I'm used to this, but I left that side of things to other people."

Jamie nodded. "I believe you." Paolo had clearly been trained to hold the gun correctly, and he knew enough to check the chamber (it was loaded), but he seemed at odds with it all.

"Are you really going through with this?," Paolo asked, but Jamie didn't have time to answer. The phone rang - Aria's phone. Under different circumstances, Jamie would've smiled at her choice of ringtone: Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah," taking him back to that night at the restaurant opening, back when she was Bianca and Paolo was Noble, before all the violence, before -

He extended his arm, placing the phone in Paolo's free hand. "Answer it. Stay calm. Do NOT threaten them or try to be a bad-ass, and keep them talking for as long as you can."

Paolo answered the call, activating speakerphone. "Yeah?"

"Good. You answered. Now we can talk business."

Paolo gripped the phone as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, the only thing keeping the air flowing in and out of his lungs. "I'm listening." He tried to keep the menace out of his tone, praying the caller would slip up, would give something away about their location, or that there would be some background noise to narrow down the search.

"We know who you really are. We know the price on your head - and your sister's. She was much prettier as a redhead," the voice said, and Jamie's gut clenched. Paolo would've covered his mouth with his hand, but the gun was keeping it occupied.

"What is it that you want? What's the end game here?" Paolo was sweating bullets, and Jamie wanted to wipe his brow, but didn't dare touch him in his heightened state.

"If you can match the price on your heads, we won't hand you over to the family you both betrayed. If not.." The caller let out a deep sigh of regret, as if he felt sorry over the whole affair.

"How much?" Paolo's tone was defeated, deflated, bloodless.

The caller named an amount, and Paolo's lips curled inward, pressed together until they turned white. He said nothing for a moment.

"Do we have a deal, 'Paolo'?"

Jamie nodded, urging him to lie. "I need proof of life. Let me hear my sister, know that she's safe."

There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the line, followed by a muted exchange. The next sound they heard stopped the men's hearts. 

"Paolo.. I'm so sorry." Her voice was raw, as if she'd spent hours crying - or screaming.

"It's okay, angel. I'll get you out of this."

"You can't. Don't you dare. Don't you dare give these sons of bitches - "

Her voice was cut off by the sharp resounding crack of flesh meeting flesh as one of the kidnappers backhanded Aria across the face. 

"She's a spirited little thing. So full of life. Let's keep it that way, eh? Do we have a deal?"

Paolo would have to rob two or three banks to come up with the ransom they were demanding, but Jamie got down on his level, staring steadily into his eyes, and Paolo knew he had to bluff. It was the only way to buy them some time.

"It won't be easy, but yeah, I can do that. I can get it for you."

"We will call again in twenty four hours. If you alert the authorities, the deal is off. Do we understand one another?" 

"Yes. And if I get the money in less than twenty four hours - what then? How do I reach you?"

The caller hesitated. "You don't. We call you. Get the money."

Jamie heard Aria whimpering in the background, but she rallied, beginning to curse her captors in English, Italian, and Portugese.

"Baby, just sit tight. Don't make things worse," Paolo shouted over the commotion, praying she heard, and that she'd take his advice.

The line went dead.

"What do we do?," Paolo asked Jamie, the little lost boy in him surfacing once more. Jamie almost wished he could offer his lover something to make reality go away for a few hours; for the first time in his life, Jamie understood why someone would want to get out of their own head on drugs. If this was HIS sister...

"We go looking for them, Paolo."

"Jamie.. I'm.."

"I know. I'm scared, too. But this, this one thing, is your chance to make up for every wrong thing you ever did. This is the chance to get rid of the shadows that follow you around everywhere you go."

He meant the threat of discovery, but there was more to it than that. Jamie meant the demons inside.

As the two men concealed their weapons and made their way into the seediest part of the city, going on a hunch, Jamie caught a blur of motion in his peripheral vision. If the bad guys were watching them, why hadn't the caller mentioned Jamie? If he had the means to find out about Paolo, it wouldn't be difficult to find out about the Reagans. Jamie had social media; his name and photo were featured in articles about his family, and various other sources. If they weren't being followed by the kidnappers, then who?

"One problem at a time," Jamie muttered under his breath. "One at a time."


	16. Chapter 16

They had already visited more brothels, drug dens and houses of illegal gambling than Jamie had imagined possible, with no leads. He wanted to ask Paolo how he knew this area if he was reformed, but it didn't seem the time.

After a fruitless search, the men were physically and emotionally drained. "We should stop for a few hours, get some sleep," said Jamie, the voice of reason.

Paolo sighed. "I know. I just.. I hate the thought that she's out there somewhere, scared out of her mind, and I can't help her."

Jamie rested a hand on his lover's shoulder. "She needs you rested and with your wits about you. We can't do any more tonight."

Dinner was cheap and tasteless fare from a street vendor, the former due to necessity, the latter due to their stress. Paolo rooted around in an alleyway, clearing a small patch of debris and laying down a pile of discarded boxes for them to sit on. 

"Dawn will be here before you know it," Jamie said, trying to reassure the man.

"What if she's not okay? What if I'm walking into a trap - and, worse, taking you with me?"

Jamie had considered this, of course. "I'm going with you. I'm not letting you do this alone."

Paolo spoke to the air, his breath steaming in the cooling night. "You have a family, a good job, everything to live for. Why risk it all for a guy like me, or even for my sister? We're not exactly pillars of society."

"I swore to protect all people equally, and I don't care where you two end up, you're still New Yorkers. That makes you my responsibility." He paused. "That, and I sort of.. y'know, love you."

Paolo closed his eyes, his breathing becoming deep and even to the point that Jamie thought he'd fallen asleep leaning against the wall. At last, he spoke. "I love you, too. If we get through this okay, I plan on showing you just how much."

"We will. It'll be okay." Jamie drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind visiting the shadow-lands where men spoke into their shirt cuffs and tracked the pair's every move. The kidnapper had said he'd call again, and Jamie hoped the man kept his word. In the meantime, there was nothing left to do but sleep.

Paolo slumped in slumber, his head resting on Jamie's shoulder, and the youngest Reagan let him be, inhaling the scent of him through his scalp, memorizing it. In the face of possible death, everything was heightened; the slightest thing became heavy with meaning. Paolo was trusting him in every way that one person could trust another, and Jamie was determined not to let him down.

"We're coming, Aria," he murmured, and then said no more, for he had joined Paolo in that dream state where anything is possible, good or bad.


	17. Chapter 17

Jamie was dreaming in musical notes, the sounds swirling around him like breezes. He woke with a start, the phone in his pocket vibrating as accompaniment to "Hallelujah."

"Paolo, wake up! He's calling us back."

Paolo, bleary-eyed, snapped to high alert as Jamie's words sank in. "Yeah. I'm here."

"Did I disturb you?"

"It's fine. I.. I have the money. Where's the drop off point?"

Jamie swallowed hard. He should've coached Paolo; they didn't want a drop off point, they wanted to go straight to Aria and make the exchange - though Jamie knew the only thing they were likely to give these guys were a few rounds to the head and chest.

"So American. No. We do this directly. You show up, hand over the money, and you get your sister. Though I will warn you, I've had several other tempting offers."

"What do you mean?" Paolo's gut clenched, empty of solids and unable to spew forth the nerves twisting within.

"I mean, I've had other bids on you from competing families. It seems you made many friends in your former life," the man chuckled. "Sorry to hear you couldn't find your way here on your own, but then, I hadn't formally invited you over. To show up unannounced would have been rude."

"We had a deal," Paolo reminded him, ignoring the fact that the man seemed to know about their search. "I've got your money. The others who want me dead are not your concern."

"We did have a deal. I won't price gouge you - not today. Write this down."

Paolo pretended to write down the address, which Jamie typed into his own phone. 

Jamie's blood was ice in his veins as Paolo ended the call.

"Jamie, this is your last chance to - "

Jamie kissed Paolo, shutting him up. "I'm going."

Paolo needed the restroom in the worst way. Bodily needs attended to, the two men headed in the direction of the address. Jamie could swear they were being tailed, but no matter how quickly he turned around, he could never catch anyone paying undue attention to them.

"You okay?," Paolo asked. "Dumb question, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm good. And it's not dumb." He squeezed Paolo's hand briefly, the sensation lingering for a moment.

They were almost there; how was it possible that they'd been so close the entire time? 

Paolo was praying softly in Italian, and Jamie tried to follow along, offering his own silent prayers in English. He only hoped the gods of this land would hear and understand.


	18. Chapter 18

From the moment they arrived, everything went into fast-forward speed.

Expecting the building to be guarded, they found the door curiously unattended. Jamie knocked, and, when no one answered, kicked it down. To the left of the doorway lay a man, clearly already dead, a cursory glance revealing the gunshot wound to the back of the head. The pair moved through the entryway as silently as they could, finding another body at the foot of the stairs, having fallen head-first after a shot to the chest. Moving up to the second floor, they heard sounds of life: Aria's muffled pleas against the gag. A man's voice, the same they'd heard on the phone, told her to stay still, and Paolo's blood boiled at the thought of what might be taking place just out of sight. Paolo reached the landing, his worst fears being allayed by the sight of Aria gagged and bound to a chair, but seemingly untouched. 

"Paolo. You have the money?"

Paolo kept his gun low by his side. The kidnapper, who had never given his name, had his gun trained on Aria. His smirk turned to a sneer of contempt.

"Paolo, there is nothing to negotiate. You see what sort of man I am; my own associates are dead by my hand. I only want the money; I don't want more deaths. You are the main one they want dead. Please, be reasonable."

Aria stared hard at her brother from beside her captor, trying to convey a message to him. In the time it took to blink, she kicked the man as hard as she could, knocking herself and her chair over in the process. The captor cocked his gun, ready to put a bullet in the woman who dared defy him. Paolo raised his weapon, and then it happened. Jamie, convinced there were no other kidnappers left alive, entered the room. In a moment of confusion, the villain turned his gun on the stranger.

"You! What are you - " 

One shot rang out, hitting its mark before the man had time to finish speaking.

The one who had led them here twitched for a moment, his blood spattering Aria's fallen, weeping form, then stilled. 

Paolo had fired the fatal shot, and Jamie surveyed the room, listening out for signs of anyone coming up the stairs. There was silence.

It was over.

Or so they thought.


	19. Chapter 19

Paolo's breaths came in slow, torturous drags. His hands still gripped the gun, his body frozen in a shooter's pose. Jamie approached slowly from the right, making enough noise to let Paolo know he was there.

"He was going to shoot you," Paolo said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, like he was reciting a shopping list. 

Jamie nodded, solemn. "I know."

"I had to do it. I had to.. I couldn't let him.."

Jamie extended his hand, palm out. "It's okay, Paolo. It's over. Put that in my hand, okay?"

Paolo looked at Jamie without truly seeing him, dazed. "Jamie.."

"You did a good job, Paolo. You don't need this anymore. Just put it here in my hand." He did not say 'gun.' Paolo's trauma ran several layers deep, and this was just the surface, the initial shock. Jamie wanted to tread softly, to ease his lover into the full reality of what he had just done. 

Paolo placed the gun, still hot, into Jamie's waiting hand, barrel first, and Jamie's heart resumed beating. He emptied the remaining bullets from the chamber, placing them in his pocket. They'd need to make the gun disappear, preferably in a river, as soon as possible.

"Go check on your sister, Paolo."

Paolo snapped back from his fog - or at least emerged for a moment. "Aria."

"Go comfort her, Paolo. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

Jamie hated himself as he said it, knowing he didn't have the power to make such promises. Paolo stumbled across the debris to reach her, embracing her as they both wept. Aria looked his way, telegraphing her gratitude without words as she crumbled in her older brother's arms.

Jamie thought of Danny, wondering how his older brother coped with having taken lives while on his tours of duty in Iraq. Danny didn't discuss what happened "over there," but Jamie knew it haunted him, despite his extensive training, his love of God and country, and his absolute conviction that his (or rather, the Army's) mission was righteous. How would Paolo hold up? What would happen to him now, and to Aria? 

"We need to get you out of here," Jamie said after giving the siblings a few minutes.

Paolo glanced back at the man he had shot, the blood already starting to thicken where it had spilled. "What about.."

Jamie shook his head. "I'm not worried about him. I'm worried about both of you. This guy clearly didn't have many friends, and I don't want to be here if someone comes looking for him."

Paolo blanched. "My family. When they can't reach him, they'll - "

Aria whimpered, and Paolo helped her up. 

"Can you walk?," Jamie asked quietly.

"Yeah. I'm okay. I just need to reach down and find that anger, and I'll be fine."

Jamie offered her a weak smile. He wanted to play the role of a good cop, ask probing questions about her treatment, any injuries - or worse - that she'd sustained, but it wasn't the moment.

Paolo helped her, his sister leaning on him for the first few steps before shrugging him away. Jamie exhaled. At least she was alive; the rest was details.

As they emerged into daylight, Jamie almost ran into a wall of a man. Something about him was familiar, and then he glanced upward.

"Dad?"

Paolo blinked, a step behind Jamie. "'Dad'?"

Police Commissioner Frank Reagan gave his trademark stern look. "I see we're too late to help with the rescue mission."

Behind him stood several uniformed members of the local force, along with suited officers from Interpol. 

"Dad.. How did you - ?"

"Let's go down to the station and sort all this out," Frank said, voice clipped. "My clean-up crew can take it from here."

"Am I under arrest?," Paolo stammered, having flashbacks to his old life.

"Not as of right now. Let's go."

Jamie, Paolo and Aria were ushered into an unmarked car and taken to the nearest station, Frank following behind in a separate vehicle.

"Should we try to get our stories straight?," Paolo whispered, half-delirious.

Jamie shook his head no. "I think it's too late for that. He already knows so much. Just.. Let me handle him."

He found himself wondering if it would've been better to let the guy shoot him.


	20. Chapter 20

It was Jamie's worst nightmare, other than losing Paolo or Aria: alone in a cell with his father, being interrogated.

"Tell me again. All of it."

Jamie blew out a breath in the stifling heat. "I already told you three times, backwards and forwards. I told you why I couldn't let anyone know where I was really going, I told you how I found Paolo and his sister, and I told you everything I know about the kidnapping."

"Jamie, this isn't America. Paolo may not get a fair shake here. He killed a man."

"Yeah, a man who kidnapped his sister, killed several people, and had every intention of killing me!"

Frank waited for his son to finish his outburst. "There's something else. There must be. A missing piece. Think, Jamie."

Jamie replayed the scenes frame by frame in his mind. Then it hit him.

"Just before Paolo fired, the guy said 'You,' like he recognized me."

Frank's brow furrowed more deeply than Jamie had ever seen. "I was afraid of that."

"Dad, who was he? I mean, obviously not a pro; he killed his own henchmen, and he screwed up at almost every step before that."

"No, Jamie, HE wasn't a pro, but there are others. His name was Benedito Maciel, and he was towards the lower end of the food chain as far as criminals go. We're still not sure how he managed to get involved with the Sanfino family, or how and when the siblings' new location became known."

Jamie looked at his hands, interlocking his fingers, remembering how it felt to hold Paolo's hand. "I'd heard rumors within the department. I.. I should've come to you about it, but.."

Frank exhaled slowly through the nose, making a slight whistle. "But that would've upset your travel plans."

Jamie nodded. "How'd you know where to find me?"

"Well, the travel guide sitting at the top of your open bag didn't hurt. I wasn't going to get involved, Jamie, but I had a bad feeling about your trip, and it wouldn't let up. Danny knew I was worried, and he called in a few favors to get me some information."

Jamie almost smiled at that. "Danny? Danny couldn't organize a kegger in a brewery. How'd he manage that?" It hit Jamie then. "Were you and Danny the ones who had me followed?"

Frank asked for a description of each man Jamie had noticed observing him and/or Paolo. When the run-down was complete, he knew they had a problem.

"I can swear to the identity of most of those men, but, Jamie, some of them must be working for someone else."

Jamie's blood ran cold, despite the heat. "Brazilian authorities?"

Frank dismissed this. "Already touched base with them. They have their own men, but I told them I wanted mine on this. I needed the best, men I could trust."

Jamie knew it then, if he'd had any remaining doubts: Paolo and Aria were no longer safe here. They'd never be safe here; maybe they'd never be safe anywhere.

Paolo appeared on the other side of the bars, and Jamie could sense him - that swirl in his solar plexus telling him his lover was near. Turning to face him merely confirmed what he already knew.

Paolo was admitted to the cell by a guard, and took an uneasy seat a few feet from Jamie and several feet from Frank.

"So. You and Paolo.."

Jamie swallowed hard. This was worse than the time Erin had walked in on him having 'private time' when he was fifteen. "Yeah, Dad. Me and Paolo." As 'coming out' speeches went, it was short and to the point, but really, what more needed to be said? 

Frank stood, moving slowly towards the terrified newcomer. "Frank Reagan."

Paolo gripped the hand extended to him, feeling its power, the bone-crushing grip which was there should Frank need it. "Paolo Flores, aka -"

"That's alright, son. Good to meet you."

Paolo wanted to disappear, but Jamie's presence gave him just enough strength to stay where he was, rather than bolt and beat on the bars to be let out.

"I've already talked to Jamie about what happened. Now I need to hear it from you."

Paolo was shocked. "Why should you take my word on anything? You know who I am, who I was.."

Frank conceded the point. "Even a criminal can tell the truth, Paolo. The past is done, and it can't be changed, but what you do now - that's the true measure of your character."

Jamie kept his eyes steady on his father's face as Paolo told the man everything he knew, from the moment they'd landed in Rio up to the moment they were brought to the station. Frank listened, never taking notes, Jamie knowing his razor-sharp mind was doing it for him. When the tale was told, Frank asked him to start again at the beginning, and this happened twice before Frank was satisfied.

Paolo looked exhausted, sweat marring his brow and plastering his hair to his skin. Frank motioned to the guard, and the man returned with three bottles of imported water.

"Okay, gentlemen. I believe you've given me as complete and truthful of an account as you can. Now it's up to the local authorities to decide the next move."

Jamie stood up, getting a head rush after sitting so long and going on such an emotional roller-coaster ride. "What does that mean?"

Frank looked from one man to the other. "I'll tell them everything you just told me. You'll give your statements to the police here, and then let the cards fall where they may."

"There's one thing I don't get," Paolo piped up, surprising himself with his own candor. "You don't have any jurisdiction here. How'd you pull this off?"

Frank straightened, looking Paolo dead in the eye. "A member of my department saved the Brazilian police commissioner's son once upon a time. I called in a favor."

"It was you, wasn't it?," Paolo asked, then felt foolish.

"You boys sit tight. They'll be in to take your statements shortly."

With that, Frank was allowed to leave the cell, leaving the lovers to wait.

"Just tell them the truth, Paolo."

Paolo looked crestfallen. "I might be safer in here than out there. What am I going to do, Jamie? And Aria? We'll have to go on the run, just keep moving from place to place, forever. What kind of life is that?"

Jamie wished he had easy answers for the man he loved. Still, in the back of his mind, Jamie was turning the problem this way and that, looking for a solution that would save them all and give him a chance at a happy ending..


	21. Chapter 21

Paolo stepped, blinking, into the fading light of evening.

The lovers had been questioned, alone and together, for what felt like days. Aria, too, had been grilled on her version of events, still refusing medical care and insisting she hadn't been violated. Shock had worn off for all of them, giving way to anger and fear, a dangerous cocktail flooding their systems with adrenaline despite their collective exhaustion.

The police were satisfied they had the truth. There were no criminal charges pending, and it felt like they'd all been handed a miracle.

Frank was waiting in the growing shadows. "So what's the endgame here, folks? Clearly Rio is no longer a viable option - for any of you." Ah, the pointed look at Jamie.

The three friends exchanged uncertain glances. "I was kind of hoping you'd have some of that famous Reagan patriarch advice I've heard so much about," Paolo said without thinking. The snark was gone from his tone; he wasn't poking fun. Frank Reagan was the closest thing he had to an ally right now, outside of Jamie and his own sister.

"Jamie, a word, please?"

Jamie fell into step like he was a kid again, walking towards his father without so much as a backward glance - though he could feel the siblings' eyes boring into his back as they held their breath for his return.

"Dad, I know what I did was stupid - "

"I'd say 'insane' was a more apt description, son - but go on."

"But I've never felt this way about anyone. I can't just walk away. I have to know that he's safe - that they both are." His feelings for Aria weren't the least bit romantic, but he cared for her all the same, not least because of how much she meant to Paolo.

Frank sighed. No matter how old your kids get, he ruminated, you never stop wanting to keep them safe. This was a situation he'd never envisioned in all his sleepless nights, but he'd had a few days to turn it this way and that in his mind, looking for the solution. 

"Son, I've always trusted your judgement. Of all my kids, you've typically stayed on the straight and narrow more than the others, and I've always been grateful for that. I guess it's your turn to live a little. At least you're doing it with some age and experience under your belt."

Jamie waited, then decided it was his turn to speak. "Dad, I love my family, and I love my job. I even love my city. I just can't.. I can't go back to all that without knowing for sure that it's the best thing for me. And the truth is, I'm not sure it's the best thing for me."

Frank's face was unmoved, did not so much as twitch, but something in his eyes grew softer, a hint of tenderness beneath the steel. "You love him." It was not a question.

"I do. And he loves me. He saved my life, even after he almost died because of me. He trusted me, even after all that he's been through, and me being here brought more heat down on him and Aria, but I know he'd do it all again just to spend time with me."

Frank made his decision. "The way I see it, you've got two choices. Either the three of you go on the run, never knowing who'll find you or when - and you know there will always be a price on their heads.."

Jamie swallowed his fear. "Or?"

Frank placed a meaty paw on Jamie's shoulder. "Or you bring them back with you, where they'll enjoy the full protection of the NYPD for as long as I'm at the helm."

Jamie was stunned. He was glad his father's hand was there to steady him, or he might have fainted where he stood. "How can you - how could that even work? They can't hide there; too many people know them."

"So they don't hide. We make it known that they're back, and that anyone who comes after them will have an army of blue to deal with. Even if you add all the crime families together, the NYPD has them outgunned and outmanned. So what's your decision, son? The jet is on standby."

Jamie felt his eyes welling up. "They won't have anywhere to stay, Dad, or - "

"Leave that to me. Your safety is my concern right now, and if that means packing those two in your suitcase and bringing them with us, so be it."

"I don't know what to say."

Frank offered the hint of a smile. "Tell them what's on the table. Time's a wastin'."

Jamie managed to put one foot in front of the other, and Frank watched from just beyond earshot as Jamie stumbled to get the words out. Aria let out a strangled cry of shock and joy, and Paolo had to stop himself from kissing Jamie full on the mouth in front of his dad. Aria retrieved her phone from the evidence bag she'd been given, throwing it into the brush, and Paolo followed suit with his own. They'd leave no explanations, no goodbyes; they'd simply disappear as suddenly as they'd appeared. 

The siblings followed Jamie to where Frank stood. Paolo opened his mouth to speak, but Frank held up a hand for silence.

"Save it for the flight home, son. Let's go; it's getting dark, and I hear Rio can be dangerous at night."

With a wry laugh at that, the four of them piled into the car headed for the private airstrip. Aria turned to Paolo with a bashful smile. "You did good, big bro," she teased, flicking her gaze over to Jamie, who had the good grace to blush. "He's a keeper."

"Am I going to be under house arrest?," Paolo joked.

"Absolutely. I'm going to make sure you don't leave your room for at least a week," Jamie muttered under his breath.

Frank put on his glasses, clearing his throat and pretending to be engrossed in something on his phone. Aria turned her head, staring out the window to hide her own blushes. 

The future was still unknowable, but Paolo was willing to risk it all. If the plan proved unsuccessful, running was always an option, but maybe, just maybe, the answer was to be honest and face reality head-on. Maybe being open was the way to go, after so many secrets and lies. Jamie seemed to sense his train of thought, giving his hand a squeeze in the dim light. 

The jet was waiting to shuttle them back to the city they'd missed with the best friend they'd ever had, and their new 'family' - on the opposite side of the law from any family they'd ever known - was waiting to meet them.

The flight went smoothly, and Aria nearly creamed her panties at the first whiff of city air. "God I've missed this shithole," she enthused. "I feel like I'm dreaming."

"What's on your mind?," Jamie asked his lover.

"Would you go back to calling me 'Noble'? I've missed it."

Jamie nodded. "Of course. And what about you? Are you going back to 'Bianca'?"

Her face lit up. "I hadn't thought of that, but, hell yeah. I'm taking back my fuckin' name."

It's the little things, Jamie thought.

Frank was already on the phone, organizing a press conference to announce the return of the Sanfino siblings and to issue a blanket warning regarding any mob reprisals against them. Jamie was a bundle of nerves, but underneath that, he had a good feeling about it all.

The shadow-men still lurked in the back of his mind, but Jamie knew that all pests eventually exposed themselves to the light. When they did, they'd be dealt with. 

"Wait'll you meet my sister. She's as much of a pistol as yours," Jamie teased.

"Can't wait. Though I'm more afraid of your big brother," Noble replied.

"Danny's Danny. He'll come around when he sees how happy I am." Jamie hoped it was true as he said it.

"The first moment we get alone, I'm going to make you even happier. Happier than you've ever been in your life."

"I'll hold you to that."

This was life. This was love. This was the beginning of everything.

-End


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

One year.

One year of dealing with the occasional opinionated member of the press or even the general public. One year of having to constantly reinvent themselves, thinking they had to prove their worth, when really, all they had to do was be themselves - their best selves - and wait for most people to come around.

Jamie had been put through the wringer by his superiors, and his father had not shielded him from any of it. From the moment they'd landed stateside, it was understood that Jamie was going to have to walk through the fire and hope he survived with his career intact. After IA had satisfied themselves that Jamie hadn't done anything worthy of being thrown off the force, he'd had to earn back the trust of his colleagues and superiors one day at a time. Noble was supportive of his man, always on his best behavior - publicly at least. At around the six month mark, Jamie was able to breathe again. He felt accepted and respected as an officer, felt that everyone finally understood that he wasn't going to lead a double life; he was true blue, and his lover's past was not going to lead him astray.

Frank was proud of his son in ways he'd never imagined he could be. Jamie had fought some tough battles on every front, not least of all within himself, and he'd emerged victorious. Frank often wondered how his other children would've handled the same odds, or even how he himself would've coped with a similar situation, and the respect he had for his youngest child deepened with every new hurdle he overcame.

Jamie hummed to himself, tapping out the beat on the steering wheel as he slid through the streets of the city he held so dear. Noble was waiting for him. It sucked that the man had to work on their anniversary, but Jamie admired his work ethic. The restaurant was doing well, and there was talk of making Noble a partner in the business. Jamie knew his lover was the main attraction at the place, keeping the registers ringing and the lines snaking out the door. Still, no matter how busy the spot was, Jamie was always given great service. It was good to know the chef.

The restaurant was winding down for the evening, having served the last few tables of the after-bar crowd. Noble was drenched in sweat, his dark hair contrasting with his pristine chef's whites and his ever-present tanned, olive complexion. Jamie loved the way they looked overlapped, his pale Irish cream stock blending with Noble's honey-hued limbs. He'd often toyed with the idea of having a professional photographer capture them in 'artistic' poses. Maybe next anniversary.

"Hey, you," Noble said, his fatigue melting momentarily at the sight of the one he loved.

"Hey, yourself. Busy night?"

Noble made a sound of mock frustration. "Yeah. The worst."

Jamie hadn't come empty-handed, but it wasn't quite the moment to present the envelope. "Got anything to eat around here?," he teased, and Noble motioned him to a seat at the bar.

Jamie forgot the cares of the day, the calls he knew would bother him later, the victims he knew were protecting their abusers, the perps he knew were lying. It all went up in smoke (or steam) as Noble set a plate of deliciousness in front of him.

"Wow. What is this?"

"Leftover chef's special," Noble joked. "Just try it."

Jamie lifted a forkful to his mouth, letting the flavors burst on his tongue. "Mmm."

'"Mmm'? Keep your day job, Jamie; you'd never make it as a restaurant critic."

"Mmm," Jamie emphasized, and Noble shook his head. Calling back to the kitchen, he let the other staff know he was done for the night. The orders had stopped already, and the rest of the crew could handle the clean-up and the closing.

Noble came around the bar, a favorite watering hole for local law enforcement (the ten percent 'blue discount' didn't hurt). Jamie was grateful for the constant police presence; only a gangster on a suicide mission would dare try to take out a target in a cop hang-out. It meant a lot to him that the force had accepted Noble's new nature, trusting him to prepare their food. There were no words for that level of gratitude.

"Happy anniversary," Jamie said softly, something threatening to make his eyes water. 

"Is that today?," Noble teased.

They had an ease around each other which was apparent to even the casual observer, though they were rarely hot and heavy in public. Noble gave Jamie a tight squeeze before taking a seat on the nearest stool.

"Happy anniversary," Noble amended.

One of the wait staff brought Noble a matching dish of his own leftovers, and he tucked in. "Mmm," he echoed.

"Told ya." Jamie beamed.

"So? Any plans for your anniversary?" Noble was enjoying himself immensely.

"I, uh, thought we could open the mail together."

Noble stopped chewing as the meaning of that sentence hit him in the gut. "Now?"

"Why not?" He retrieved an envelope from the inside of his jacket, placing it on the bar between their plates.

Noble swallowed with difficulty. "Okay. Sure."

Jamie held the envelope while Noble peeled at the adhesive flap. "It's a pretty thick envelope," Noble said, then wondered why, even after so long, he still couldn't control his mouth around this man.

"Whatever it says, this isn't the end," Jamie said softly.

They unfolded the letter, reading the first few lines in silence. Noble paled, if that were possible, and Jamie rested a hand on Noble's shoulder.

"Jamie.."

He tore his eyes away from the contents of the page, and he saw the same emotions swirling in the eyes staring back at him. "Looks like they said yes."

"Jamie.."

"I know, babe. I know." 

Noble was off the stool, sweeping Jamie into a kiss. When they came up for air, they were both flushed.

"You ready for this?," Jamie wanted to know. "For fatherhood?" The letter from the state's department of children and family services, approving them for adoption, was the best anniversary gift Jamie could've asked for. He'd thought it would be at least another six months to a year before they got a decision.

"Your family is going to FLIP. Especially since we're not.." Noble didn't finish the thought. He didn't want to push Jamie, not after the man had given so much.

"Well that's easy to fix," Jamie said, no hint of jesting now. "Whenever you're ready."

Noble felt the double whammy. "We are talking about the same thing, right? Getting married?"

Jamie nodded. "I've known for a while. I was waiting for you. You have to be sure - "

Noble cut him off with another kiss. "Damn you emotionally constipated Reagans. That was a sub-par proposal, but, yes," Noble sighed.

"So now we get to give everyone a double coronary," Jamie said. "A wedding and a baby."

Noble blanched again. "A baby."

"Or an older kid. We'll know when we find them." Jamie was open to any child, any age, any background. He was ready.

"Right," Noble said, shaking a little. He was ready, too. Terrified, but ready.

"So now what?," Jamie asked, his heart pounding, but his cop training keeping him from freaking out externally.

"Now, we eat. I think we'll get dessert to go. And then.."

He looked up at Jamie from beneath those lowered lashes, the ones which had ghosted against Jamie's most sensitive parts on many occasions. The ones which ensnared his heart like a spider-web - along with the unruly mass of hair, and that sinful mouth, and..

"Home?," Jamie said hopefully.

"For tonight. We'll drop the happy bombshells tomorrow at Sunday dinner, but tonight.."

Jamie nodded. "Tonight is for us."

There would be renewed press interest in their private lives once they obtained the license, but Jamie wasn't afraid. Not anymore. They'd stand side by side and face whatever the future brought - together. So far, so good.

One year down, forever to go.


End file.
